SONGS OF THE SOUL
The food for which thou wept’st awaits,—par-
take !—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!
take !—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!
Friends and wealth and fancy’s rarest treat,
Posthumous wishes sprung from deathless roots
so sweet
Did fail to feed thy heart’s true crave
And burned with thousand flaming waves
The nectar sought for seeks thee now;-—par-
take,—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!
Posthumous wishes sprung from deathless roots
so sweet
Did fail to feed thy heart’s true crave
And burned with thousand flaming waves
The nectar sought for seeks thee now;-—par-
take,—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!
My hunger burned and wept to drink
The mysteries by life’s bare brink,—
Ambrosial fount that sleep beneath
The mystery caves on soil of truth:
Weep more drops, nay streams—oceans—of tears,
Thy duty is for peace to weep; thy only care
To seek thy work; and all thy food
Be what doth nourish thy mood;
Thy work is done, thy nectar’s here,—
Quench, quench the eternal ache!—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!
The mysteries by life’s bare brink,—
Ambrosial fount that sleep beneath
The mystery caves on soil of truth:
Weep more drops, nay streams—oceans—of tears,
Thy duty is for peace to weep; thy only care
To seek thy work; and all thy food
Be what doth nourish thy mood;
Thy work is done, thy nectar’s here,—
Quench, quench the eternal ache!—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!
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