The Beloved Disciple

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The Beloved Disciple

One do I see and twelve; but second there

Methinks I know thee, thou beloved one;

Not from thy nobler port, for there are none

More quiet-featured: some there are who bear

Their message on their brows, while others wear

A look of large commission, nor will shun

The fiery trial, so their work is done;

But thou hast parted with thine eyes in prayer⁠—

Unearthly are they both; and so thy lips

Seem like the porches of the spirit land;

For thou hast laid a mighty treasure by

Unlocked by Him in Nature, and thine eye

Burns with a vision and apocalypse

Thy own sweet soul can hardly understand.

A Boanerges too! Upon my heart

It lay a heavy hour: features like thine

Should glow with other message than the shine

Of the earth-burrowing levin, and the start

That cleaveth horrid gulfs! Awful and swart

A moment stoodest thou, but less divine⁠—

Brawny and clad in ruin⁠—till with mine

Thy heart made answering signals, and apart

Beamed forth thy two rapt eyeballs doubly clear

And twice as strong because thou didst thy duty,

And, though affianced to immortal Beauty,

Hiddest not weakly underneath her veil

The pest of Sin and Death which maketh pale:

Henceforward be thy spirit doubly dear!