Page:The ascent of man by Blind, Mathilde.djvu/173

 walkest with me as the spirit-light
 * Of the hushed moon, high o'er a snowy hill,

Walks with the houseless traveller all the night,
 * When trees are tongueless and when mute the rill.

Moon of my soul, O phantasm of delight,
 * Thou walkest with me still.

The vestal flame of quenchless memory burns
 * In my soul's sanctuary. Yea, still for thee

My bitter heart hath yearned, as moonward yearns
 * Each separate wave-pulse of the clamorous sea:

My Moon of love, to whom for ever turns
 * The life that aches through me.

M