 | The hours of the passion and other poems |  |
EVENING
O Master, let me go!
The air is fair and still,
The dews of sunset steep
The flowers upon the hill;
All the wild skies are pale,
All the wide earth lies free;
Let me now wander forth
To dream of love and Thee;
To linger at my will
Along the purple vales:
There will I find a secret flower,
That all its heart exhales:—
Its heart to Thee exhales.
Let me go!
The air is fair and still,
The dews of sunset steep
The flowers upon the hill;
All the wild skies are pale,
All the wide earth lies free;
Let me now wander forth
To dream of love and Thee;
To linger at my will
Along the purple vales:
There will I find a secret flower,
That all its heart exhales:—
Its heart to Thee exhales.
Let me go!
I will not let thee go!
This hour is Mine and thine,
I have made fast the door
Though thou, My prisoner, pine:
The table I prepare,
With thee I come to sup,
Bitter the herbs we share,
And bitter is the cup.
I will not let thee go!
This hour is Mine and thine,
I have made fast the door
Though thou, My prisoner, pine:
The table I prepare,
With thee I come to sup,
Bitter the herbs we share,
And bitter is the cup.
I will not let thee go!
| The hours of the passion and other poems | |