Love, the world's life!
What a sad
Thy absence is to lose our
At once and die, is but to
Enlarged, without the scant
Of pulse and air: whose dull
And narrow circles the soul mourns.
But to be dead alive, and
To wish, but never have our will:
To be possessed, and yet to miss;
To wed a true but absent bliss:
Are lingering tortures, and their
Dissects and racks and grinds the heart!
As soul and body in that
Which unto us seems separate,
Cannot be said to live,
Reunion; which days
And slow-paced seasons: so in
Through hours and minutes (Time's long train,)I look for thee, and from thy sight,
As from my soul, for life and light.
For till thine eyes shine so on me,
Mine are fast-closed and will not see.
