Poems (Whitney)/C. l'e.

by Anne Whitney

C. L'E.

I dwelt content with-God and loving all,In those first years; but ere long, something strove .Within—and, Fame, I thought, is larger love;And love of fame, in every noble soul,Is love of love;—and, though I missed the goal,I could but see how, quite beyond our wills,Some pure and deep Intelligence fulfilsOur longings in its own deep way.—My shoalGod centred in a starred, unfathomed well;The WQorld might roar at will; 'twas charityMerely to let it go; around me fellSurpassing sun and air; and for earth's free,Broad paths were slight, restraining arms so pale,And endless kisses by the yearning sea.