 | The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite |  |
THEY THAT WORK IN SILENCE
A space of sleep vouchasafe the Lords of love;
To wake at length they grant who reign above;
Meanwhile, but substitutes for rest their schemes
Dispense, till pity those great hearts shall move
To free us from our dreams.
To wake at length they grant who reign above;
Meanwhile, but substitutes for rest their schemes
Dispense, till pity those great hearts shall move
To free us from our dreams.
They that have rock'd us into swoon so well
Alone can break the bars and bonds of spell;
But surely comes the wakening at last,
When each to each of his strange toils shall tell
As of old dangers past.
Alone can break the bars and bonds of spell;
But surely comes the wakening at last,
When each to each of his strange toils shall tell
As of old dangers past.
13
And towards the place of exile, far away,
We shall look back in our relief and say:
Hard was the bed whereon we writhed in sleep;
But now the vigils of true life repay
With rest divinely deep.
We shall look back in our relief and say:
Hard was the bed whereon we writhed in sleep;
But now the vigils of true life repay
With rest divinely deep.
| The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite | |