 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
Like to a lily ín a thorny wood;
How beautiful thou wast, ín thy few life-days,
In forest of the World; so few alas.
Death cánnot dim thy vision, ín my heart.
Dear Lodestar bright; whereby I daily set,
My shallops course, in Lifes solicitous voyage.
How beautiful thou wast, ín thy few life-days,
In forest of the World; so few alas.
Death cánnot dim thy vision, ín my heart.
Dear Lodestar bright; whereby I daily set,
My shallops course, in Lifes solicitous voyage.
Long cold be those dead lips; that word ne'er spake
Unworth, unsooth; those dying lips, that kissed,
Once kisst, (thy natures painful travail past;)
This last new-bórn on thy dear breast, alas.
For death, that may not be entreated, set
Had early, on thy loved front, His seal, alas!
Mother of my lifes breath, I living lift
O'er thee, these prayer-knit hands. I durst not weep;
Lest I of Under-Earth, the canon break.
Unworth, unsooth; those dying lips, that kissed,
Once kisst, (thy natures painful travail past;)
This last new-bórn on thy dear breast, alas.
For death, that may not be entreated, set
Had early, on thy loved front, His seal, alas!
48
O'er thee, these prayer-knit hands. I durst not weep;
Lest I of Under-Earth, the canon break.
I heard a Voice saying, Spirits which in their rests,
Behold the Heavenly Vision, cannot wake,
To Worldly speech. . . . Revealed, all in that moment,
Was to mine inward vision, Herthas Voice;
Mighty, not human-membered, Protean Spirit.
Behold the Heavenly Vision, cannot wake,
To Worldly speech. . . . Revealed, all in that moment,
Was to mine inward vision, Herthas Voice;
Mighty, not human-membered, Protean Spirit.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |