 | Songs of A Wayfarer |  |
CXCVII.
[Wouldst thou know what 'tis I win]
Wouldst thou know what 'tis I winBy my earnest soul's desire:
What these fervid yearnings mean
Wheeling like celestial fire;
If I truly feel in this
All my being wasted is;
Missing every worldly bliss?
176
Tossed in anguish though I move,
Yet they bear me still the same
To a land whose light is love,
On whose shores these waves of fire
Break and gloriously expire
In the end of all desire.
| Songs of A Wayfarer | |