Poems (Hinchman)/O Thou, to whom my soul with beating heart
VI
O Thou, to whom my soul with beating heart
Hath knelt in praise, since my first dream of thee,
Nor wisheth evermore to be made free
Nor ever from thy vassalage would part:
Thou, Beauty, who a star, who our sun art!
Grant of thy glory light to us that we,
Like the awakening earth, may joyously
Turn to thy beams that life's pale mists dispart.
Hath knelt in praise, since my first dream of thee,
Nor wisheth evermore to be made free
Nor ever from thy vassalage would part:
Thou, Beauty, who a star, who our sun art!
Grant of thy glory light to us that we,
Like the awakening earth, may joyously
Turn to thy beams that life's pale mists dispart.
Thee have we guess'd at as we dimly could,
As mind and heart and high ambition can—
Nay, we have strain'd and sought thee, fearfully;
Have felt and wonderfully understood
What never has been seen unveil'd by man,
Nor ever heard, the unmeasur'd harmony.
As mind and heart and high ambition can—
Nay, we have strain'd and sought thee, fearfully;
Have felt and wonderfully understood
What never has been seen unveil'd by man,
Nor ever heard, the unmeasur'd harmony.