Songs of the Spirit

To reach toward God, and, from His shrine returning, To sing in magic melodies the vast Desires of God towards man—O dreams ! O years Drowned in these bitter tears ! I felt the springs of youth within me leaping, Let loose my pleasure, never guessed that pain Was worth the holding—now, my life is weeping Itself away, those agonies to gain Which are my one last hope, that by some cross Eld may avenge youth’s loss ! Yet still youth burns ! The hours its pleasure wasted Compel their bitter memories to grow sweet ; Like some warm-perfumed poison if I tasted, Felt its fierce savour pulse, and burn, and beat, Yet in my veins its sleepy fire might bring Strange dreams of some sweet thing. Half a regret and half a shuddering terror, The past lies desolate and yet is here, 28