Songs of the Soul/Part 2/Wake, Wake, My Sleeping Hunger, Wake
< Songs of the Soul | Part 2
WAKE, WAKE MY SLEEPING HUNGER, WAKE!
When tables large of earth and moon and meteors,
Of brooks and rills, of shining ether ore
Are laid with wondrous One Nectar,
Stolen from nature’s nooks by lars,—
Do thou thy sullen sleep forsake;—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!
Of brooks and rills, of shining ether ore
Are laid with wondrous One Nectar,
Stolen from nature’s nooks by lars,—
Do thou thy sullen sleep forsake;—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!
Through diverse paths of aeons thou hast cried,
For a morsel of manna begged and tried;
But now thou sleepest, dazed and tired, on leer
Undried lie drops of fresh-wept tears
While nectar touches thy lips,—partake,—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!
For a morsel of manna begged and tried;
But now thou sleepest, dazed and tired, on leer
Undried lie drops of fresh-wept tears
While nectar touches thy lips,—partake,—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!
This unquenched hunger old of mine
Did eat all food and yet did pine,—
Was starved with surfeit and it sought
How might its yearn’d-for food be got.
The food for which thou wept’st awaits,—par-
take !—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!
Did eat all food and yet did pine,—
Was starved with surfeit and it sought
How might its yearn’d-for food be got.
The food for which thou wept’st awaits,—par-
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!