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