 | Holy of holies |  |
11
VII.
[Through rain and storm I press my lonely flight]
Through rain and storm I press my lonely flight,A sea-gull battling with the winds of heaven:
Beneath, the ocean white and tempest-riven;
Above, the black unfathomable night,
Seamed with the net-work of the lightnings white;
Full in mine eyes the blinding sea-spray driven;
Before, behind me, night; to guide me given
Nought but the burning of an inward light.
Ah yes, the light that guides me burns within,
A high blind instinct that impels me on,
The sea-bird's love of battle and storm that cheers.
And see from that same quarter I would win
A still small star breaks flower, where no star shone,
And shines on me afar off as through tears.
Aug. 5th, 1885.
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