Page:Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918).djvu/87

 THE POET

You Hour! From me you ever take your flight,

Your swift wings wound me as they whir along;

Without you void would be my day and night,

Without you I'll not capture my great song.

I have no earthly spot where I can live,

I have no love, I have no household fane,

And all the things to which myself I give

Impoverish me with richness they attain.

43