Beauty seems an empty shell — out-worn.
Great longing of my sea, break forth, be uncontained !...
Count not your shipwrecks — every spar may save.
So I, not cruelly, not impetuously.
But with keen, shrewd resolve — rise up.
Why do I rise on timid stealthy feet?
In the dark to take leave of the dark,
To kiss the eyes of night farewell.
And turn love's withered face full on the dawn.
May the dawn learn through me,
Not tint and play with empty shadows here.
But raise the arch of triumph of its day.
... I hear a sound as of a world on flame.
My past a burning city?
Shall I look round?
— Salt of my earth: all my tears crystalized!
You'd call me back into the phantom house-? —
O, Psyche holding high your awkward lamp,
O, Psyche, loved in darkness, see the day!
— 38 —
