The speaker addresses a woman who is like morning itself, someone whose absence turns the world to night. Everyone who meets her is rescued from despair. Her mere whispered words, “Let there be light,” and the glance of her eyes, seem to bring actual light and life back to those on the edge of death. She rekindles lost faith in truth and human goodness. The speaker counts himself among those indebted to her, but insists his devotion is the deepest. He writes these lines trembling with the thought that he is, in a way, speaking directly to an angel. The poem feels like an intimate, breathless thank-you note, full of worship and awe, as if the poet is still stunned that such kindness exists.
To Marie Louise (Shew) — Summary
Of all who hail thy presence as the morning-- Of all to whom thine absence is the night-- The blotting utterly from out high heaven The sacred sun--of all who, weeping, bless thee Hourly for hope--for life--ah, above all, For the resurrection of deep buried faith In truth, in virtue, in humanity-- Of all who, on despair's unhallowed bed Lying down to die, have suddenly arisen At thy soft-murmured words, "Let there be light!" At thy soft-murmured words that were fulfilled In thy seraphic glancing of thine eyes-- Of all who owe thee most, whose gratitude Nearest resembles worship,--oh, remember The truest, the most fervently devoted, And think that these weak lines are written by him-- By him who, as he pens them, thrills to think His spirit is communing with an angel's.