Page:Myrtle and Myrrh.djvu/19

 Let us above these pines, and clouds,

And scents awhile yet dwell;—

Where wouldst thou go, if thou wert now

To sigh a last farewell?"

Thou seest the busy elements

Dissolving one by one

The souls that are acquitted,

For the all-absorbing sun.

Let's sing the song of darkness then;

Thy prison is the Whole;—

What canst thou do, where wilt thou go,

What wilt thou be, my Soul?

Thou wouldst not be the air that weighs

Upon the rising dust;

Thou wouldst not be the fog that chokes

The air in savage lust.

Thou wouldst not be the clouds that block

The smoke's way to a star;

Nor linger in the guilty tears

Of clouds before the bar.

Thou wouldst not be the rain that taunts

The all-devouring sea,

Itself destroying many a nest

In bush and rock and tree.

Thou wouldst not be the thunder's tongue

Spell-binding all the spheres;

Nor wouldst thou be the lightning blade

That stabs and disappears.

Thou wouldst not be the dew that falls

Alike on thorn and flower;