The Divine Tragedy by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

MARY MAGDALENE. / Companionless, unsatisfied, forlorn, / I sit here in this lonely tower, and look / Upon the lake below me, and the hills / That swoon with heat, and see as in a vision / All my past life unroll itself before me. / The princes and the merchants come to me, / Merchants of Tyre and Princes of Damascus. / And pass, and disappear, and are no more; / But leave behind their merchandise and jewels, / Their perfumes, and their gold, and their disgust. / I loathe them, and the very memory of them / Is unto me as thought of food to one / Cloyed with the luscious figs of Dalmanutha! / What if hereafter, in the long hereafter / Of endless joy or pain, or joy in pain, / It were my punishment to be with them / Grown hideous and decrepit in their sins, / And hear them say: Thou that hast brought us here, / Be unto us as thou hast been of old! / I look upon this raiment that I wear, / These silks, and these embroideries, and they seem / Only as cerements wrapped about my limbs! / I look upon these rings thick set with pearls, / And emerald and amethyst and jasper, / And they are burning coals upon my flesh! / This serpent on my wrist becomes alive! / Away, thou viper! and away, ye garlands, / Whose odors bring the swift remembrance back / Of the unhallowed revels in these chambers! / But yesterday, -- and yet it seems to me / Something remote, like a pathetic song / Sung long ago by minstrels in the street, -- / But yesterday, as from this tower I gazed, / Over the olive and the walnut trees / Upon the lake and the white ships, and wondered / Whither and whence they steered, and who was in them, / A fisher's boat drew near the landing-place / Under the oleanders, and the people / Came up from it, and passed beneath the tower, / Close under me. In front of them, as leader, / Walked one of royal aspect, clothed in white, / Who lifted up his eyes, and looked at me, / And all at once the air seemed filled and living / With a mysterious power, that streamed from him, / And overflowed me with an atmosphere / Of light and love. As one entranced I stood, / And when I woke again, lo! he was gone; / So that I said: Perhaps it is a dream. / But from that very hour the seven demons / That had their habitation in this body / Which men call beautiful, departed from me!

This morning, when the first gleam of the dawn / Made Lebanon a glory in the air, / And all below was darkness, I beheld / An angel, or a spirit glorified, / With wind-tossed garments walking on the lake. / The face I could not see, but I distinguished / The attitude and gesture, and I knew / 'T was he that healed me. And the gusty wind / Brought to mine ears a voice, which seemed to say: / Be of good cheer! 'T is I! Be not afraid! / And from the darkness, scarcely heard, the answer: / If it be thou, bid me come unto thee / Upon the water! And the voice said: Come! / And then I heard a cry of fear: Lord, save me! / As of a drowning man. And then the voice: / Why didst thou doubt, O thou of little faith! / At this all vanished, and the wind was hushed, / And the great sun came up above the hills, / And the swift-flying vapors hid themselves / In caverns among the rocks! Oh, I must find him / And follow him, and be with him forever!