23.07.2007, 11:12
There is a love that bursts all hindering bars,
And soars on pinions of authentic might
To glad communion with its sister-stars,
Needing no guidance save its own pure light.
But ere it break the prison of its fears,
Some kinship with the heavens must touch its soul,--
Or, past the wreckage of the shattered years,
It shall drift alien where calm splendors roll. . . .
There is a love born of an exile's heart,--
That shares not in love's universal breath,--
That craves not all life's beauty, but one part
From the rest sundered. And its way is death.
Yet as through night its dying gleam sweeps by,
It mocks the earth,--it, pilgrim of the sky.
And soars on pinions of authentic might
To glad communion with its sister-stars,
Needing no guidance save its own pure light.
But ere it break the prison of its fears,
Some kinship with the heavens must touch its soul,--
Or, past the wreckage of the shattered years,
It shall drift alien where calm splendors roll. . . .
There is a love born of an exile's heart,--
That shares not in love's universal breath,--
That craves not all life's beauty, but one part
From the rest sundered. And its way is death.
Yet as through night its dying gleam sweeps by,
It mocks the earth,--it, pilgrim of the sky.