The Souls Expression

TH stammering lips and insufficient soundI strive and struggle to deliver

That music of my nature, day and

With dream and thought and feeling

And inly answering all the senses

With octaves of a mystic depth and

Which step out grandly to the

From the dark edges of the sensual ground.

This song of soul I struggle to

Through portals of the sense, sublime and whole,

And utter all myself into the air:

But if I did it, — as the

Breaks its own cloud, my flesh would perish there,

Before that dread apocalypse of soul.