For we live as limpid lakes at calm That mirror roses heavy with their balm, And rich vermilion lilies of the South, Each like a warm red mouth; For we utter all delight That leaps in feasts and in the spring When in vows our words take flight, Soar exultant on the wing. Oh! what flowers are in our hearts unfurl'd Within the fairest garden in the world! III This carven column whereon monsters cling And twist among themselves with ravening jaws, They seem to pant, and grip with mighty claws, And from each other anguished cries to wring-- This was my soul before it knew thyself, Oh, thou the ever new, the ever old! Who earnest forth to me from deeps of self Ardour between thy hands and joy untold. I breathe a scent of faint familiar flow'rs Within thy heart that sleep; And thirsty memory drinks deep Of kindred echoes from past years of ours; At the same instants in our childhood, tears, Unknowing, we have wept; We must have known like gladness and like fears, Like trysts with grief have kept; Long since was I bound to thee as thine own By One who came, inscrutable, unknown, Upon my life's adventurous battle field. Oh! had I searched His face, forgetting fear, I should have known thine eyes this many a year, That there between his eyelids were reveal'd! IV The night, unfolding, banishes the day; The moon seems, in its long survey, To brood upon the sleeping silences; All the air is pure and clear, Pure and pale afar and near, And clear the waters in the friendly mead; What agony is in the slow And steady drip of water from a reed, That sounds and then is hushed below! But in my hands thy hands I hold; Thy steadfast eyes enfold Mine eyes; I see Thy peace like purest water undefiled By cloudy fear, undimmed by hovering wraith Of doubt, and oh, I see The perfect faith That rests within us like a sleeping child. V Remembering thy gracious gift to me, So simple, so profound, My wondering heart is lost in prayer to thee. How long it seemed before I, groping, found And knocked at thy heart's door; And from how far I came at last to thee Whose hands were stretched in silent search for me. My heart was eaten by corroding rust That preyed upon my strength, Defiled my trust; I was weary, I was old with long mistrust, I sickened of the roadway's empty length. When thy feet wandered into my life's way They brought a joy so exquisite to me That, trembling and in tears, I can but stay To worship silently. VI