| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | XIV. This Is Thy Hour
‘Leave me, O Love’ | | By Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586) |
| | | LEAVE me, O Love, which reachest but to dust, | |
| And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things! | |
| Grow rich in that which never taketh rust: | |
| Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings. | |
| Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might | 5 |
| To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be; | |
| Which breaks the clouds, and opens forth the light, | |
| That doth both shine, and give us sight to see. | |
| O take fast hold! let that light be thy guide | |
| In this small course which birth draws out to death, | 10 |
| And think how evil becometh him to slide | |
| Who seeketh Heaven, and comes of heavenly breath. | |
| Then farewell, world! thy uttermost I see: | |
| Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me! | | | | |
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