Songs for Sufferers :: :: University of Virginia Library

My prayers go forth, like snow-white doves, that carry
With them the incense of the earth, and all
That is confession ere it hears the call;
They mount on climbing plumes that may not tarry,
As perfumes from an opening flower they fall.
They people each poor vacancy or breach,
And multiply and supplement my reach.

I sail upon their wings, and upward lifted
Feel one with all the holiest and the strong,
With the great Life that bears the world along;
Wall, roof, and closing cloud alike are rifted
By these from matins unto evensong.
The fragrance of wild blossoms with them speeds,
A satisfaction though in silent needs.

But in their very birth my prayers are praises,
If selfish in the outset, they must end
With adoration as they still ascend;
Each on the other in an arch it raises,
To meet the heavens, which downward to them bend.
I had not dared to offer up one plea,
That found no place in Love's unbounded sea.