Page:Poet Lore, volume 26, 1915.djvu/288



Longing? To live in the surge Without a resting-place in time. Wishes? Soft communions Of the poor hours with Eternity. And this is Life!—till cut of a constellation The loneliest of all the hours doth rise, That with a smile unlike her other sisters, Mutely gazes at the Everlasting.

This is my Battle-cry: That I May roam through Time By noblest longing consecrated. Then broad and strong, With a thousand roots, Fasten deep into Life, And through sorrow and strife, Grow far out of Life, Far out of Time.