Page:The roamer and other poems (1920).djvu/55

Insatiate, incessant, mystical,
From uncreated beauty procreant,
As in the inexhaustible far East
The eternal Daybreak from her rosy orb
Millions of mornings casts—O Ecstasy,
Lead me no more that way where reason faints,
Forever lost in visionary things!"
⁠The white melodic motions of his throat
With rounding throbs of pain convulsing shook,
And down the dark head dropped with sighings low;
Then such a look he flung upon high heaven
As seemed to pluck his soul forth at his eyes;
And the heart heard him ere his quick lips moved:
⁠"O Love divine, thou art our misery!
Our mortal make bears not the joy supreme
Save for an instant. Go, poor lonely fool,
Thy taste of heaven hath made a famine here
No sun of earth shall e'er replenish more!
Go, house henceforth with his less happy lot,
Not rare, whose true nobility was made
The snare to trap him; now strike hands with him
Whose high-wrought passion met the unguided blow

Of fatal circumstance, and warped aside