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THE CLUE.
Life from sunned peak, witched wood, and flowery dellA hundred ways the eager spirit wooes,To roam, to dream, to conquer, to rebel;Yet in its ear, ever a voice cries, Choose!
So many ways, yet only one shall find;So many joys, yet only one shall bless;So many creeds, yet for each pilgrim mindOne road to the divine forgetfulness.
Tongues talk of truth, but truth is only thereWhere the heart runs to be outpoured utterly,A stream whose motion is its home,—to dareFollow one faith and in that faith be free.
Love, since I have found one truth so true,I would lose all, to lose my loss in you.
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