Page:Renascenceotherp00milluoft.pdf/24

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That I shall never more behold!
Sleeping your myriad magics through,
Close-sepulchred away from you!
O God, I cried, give me new birth,
And put me back upon the earth!
Upset each cloud's gigantic gourd
And let the heavy rain, down-poured
In one free, big torrent, set me
Washing my grave away from me!

I ceased; and through the breathless hush
That answered me, the far-off rush
Of herald wings came whispering
cameLike music down the vibrant string
Of my ascending prayer, and—crash!

Before the wild wind's whistling lash

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