717. Heart’s Hope

BY what word’s power, the key of paths untrod,

Shall I the difficult deeps of Love explore,

Till parted waves of Song yield up the shore

Even as that sea which Israel crossed dryshod?

For lo! in some poor rhythmic period,

Lady, I fain would tell how evermore

Thy soul I know not from thy body, nor

Thee from myself, neither our love from God.

Yea, in God’s name, and Love’s, and thine, would I

Draw from one loving heart such evidence

As to all hearts all things shall signify;

Tender as dawn’s first hill-fire, and intense

As instantaneous penetrating sense,

In Spring’s birth-hour, of other Springs gone by.