Poems (Cromwell)/Independence
For works with similar titles, see Independence.
INDEPENDENCE
I lie in wait that I may steal a view Of truth as lovely as the spires of latch Rising in limpid skies. But wandering March Eludes me though I watch the swift year through July to June: all visions dawn from you. Though I look steadily across the arch Of my own youth; though many splendors parch My blood, your wisdom, Sweet, alone I listen to. Yet I would win a beauty all my. own, Too fine for derivation or confiding,—Surprise a truth your love has never shown My servile glance; my themes, by living them, Shall grow like laden branches from a stem, And I ,shall break them off at their dividing.