In my dark hours, I revel in the same;

Yet I am free of hope, as thou of blame,

And all around me, wakeful and in sleep,

I weave a blessing for thy soul to claim.

ix.

Oh, by thy radiant hair and by the glow

O

O

O

Of thy full eyes,—and by thy breast of snow,—

And by the buds thereof that have the flush

Of infant roses when they strive to blush,—

And by thy voice, melodious as a bell

That rings for prayer in God's high citadel,—

By all these things, and more than I can urge,

I charge thee, Sweet! to let me out of hell!

x.

[30] 

[30]

Is it not Hell to live so far away

 Prev. P 22/142 next