From the house-wife long parted from at dawn—

So the star villages in God's great depths withdrawn.

Nearer to Thee, not by delusion led,

Though there no house fires burn nor bright eyes gaze,

We rise, but by the symbol charioted,

Through loved things rising up to Love's own ways

By these the soul unto the vast has wings

[20]

And sets the seal celestial on all mortal things.

SUNG ON A BY-WAY

What of all the will to do?

It has vanished long ago,

For a dream-shaft pierced it through

From the Unknown Archer's bow.

What of all the soul to think?

Some one offered it a cup

Filled with a diviner drink,

And the flame has burned it up.

What of all the hope to climb?

Only in the self we grope

 Prev. P 18/31 next