My spirit wails for water, water now! My tongue is aching dry, my throat is hot For water, fresh rain shaken from a bough, Or dawn dews heavy in some leafy spot. My hungry body’s burning for a swim In sunlit water where the air is cool, As in Trout Valley where upon a limb The golden finch sings sweetly to the pool. Oh water, water, when the night is done, When day steals gray-white through the windowpane, Clear silver water when I wake, alone, All impotent of parts, of fevered brain; Pure water from a forest fountain first, To wash me, cleanse me, and to quench my thirst! FUTILITY Oh, I have tried to laugh the pain away, Let new flames brush my love-springs like a feather. But the old fever seizes me to-day, As sickness grips a soul in wretched weather. I have given up myself to every urge, With not a care of precious powers spent, Have bared my body to the strangest scourge, To soothe and deaden my heart’s unhealing rent. But you have torn a nerve out of my frame, A gut that no physician can replace, And reft my life of happiness and aim. Oh what new purpose shall I now embrace? What substance hold, what lovely form pursue, When my thought burns through everything to you? THROUGH AGONY I All night, through the eternity of night, Pain was my portion though I could not feel. Deep in my humbled heart you ground your heel, Till I was reft of even my inner light, Till reason from my mind had taken flight, And all my world went whirling in a reel. And all my swarthy strength turned cold like steel, A passive mass beneath your puny might. Last night I gave you triumph over me, So I should be myself as once before, I marveled at your shallow mystery, And haunted hungrily your temple door. I gave you sum and substance to be free, Oh, you shall never triumph any more! II I do not fear to face the fact and say, How darkly-dull my living hours have grown, My wounded heart sinks heavier than stone, Because I loved you longer than a day! I do not shame to turn myself away From beckoning flowers beautifully blown, To mourn your vivid memory alone In mountain fastnesses austerely gray. The mists will shroud me on the utter height, The salty, brimming waters of my breast Will mingle with the fresh dews of the night To bathe my spirit hankering to rest. But after sleep I’ll wake with greater might, Once more to venture on the eternal quest.