From ‘The Soul’s Travelling’
God, God!
With a child’s voice I cry,
Weak, sad, fidingly—
God, God!
Thou k, eyelids, raised not always up
Unto Thy love (as none of ours are), droop
As ours, o’er many a tear!
Thou k, though Thy universe is broad,
Two little tears suffice to cover all:
Thou k, Thou, who art sal
Of beauty, we are oft but stri deer
Expiring in the woods—that care for none
Of those delightsome flowers they die upon.
O blissful Mouth which breathed the mournful breath
We name our souls, self-spoilt!—by that strong passion
Which paled Thee oh sighs,—by that stroh
Which made Thee onbreathing—from the wrack
Themselves have called around them, call them back,
Back to Thee in tinuous aspiration!
For here, O Lord,
For here they travel vainly,—vainly pass
From city-pavement to untrodden sward,
Where the lark finds her deep in the grass
Cold with the earth’s last dew. Yea, very vain
The greatest speed of all these souls of men
Uhey travel ……（内容加载失败！）
(ò﹏ò)
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谢谢!!!