Desire

Thou, who dost dwell alone; Thou, who dost know thine own; Thou, to whom all are known, From the cradle to the grave,— Save, O, save! From the world’s temptations; From tribulations; From that fierce anguish Wherein we languish; From that torpor deep Wherein we lie asleep, Heavy as death, cold as the grave,— Save, O, save! When the soul, growing clearer, Sees God no nearer; When the soul, mounting higher, To God comes no nigher; But the arch-fiend Pride Mounts at her side, Foiling her high emprize, Sealing her eagle eyes, And, when she fain would soar, Make idols to adore; Changing the pure emotion Of her high devotion, To a skin-deep sense Of her own eloquence; Strong to deceive, strong to enslave,— Save, O, save! From the ingrained fashion Of this earthly nature That mars thy creature; From grief, that is but passion; From mirth, that is but feigning; From tears, that bring no healing; From wild and weak complaining;— Thine old strength revealing, Save, O, save! From doubt, where all is double, Where wise men are not strong; Where comfort turns to trouble; Where just men suffer wrong; Where sorrow treads on joy; Where sweet things soonest cloy; Where faiths are built on dust; Where love is half mistrust, Hungry, and barren, and sharp as the sea; O, set us free! O, let the false dream fly Where our sick souls do lie, Tossing continually. O, where thy voice doth come, Let all doubts be dumb; Let all words be mild; All strife be reconciled; All pains beguiled. Light brings no blindness; Love no unkindness; Knowledge no ruin; Fear no undoing, From the cradle to the grave,— Save, O, save!

Collection: 
1842
Sub Title: 
II. Prayer and Aspiration

More from Poet

  • April, 1860 goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, Long since, saw Byron’s struggle cease. But one such death remained to come; The last poetic voice is dumb— We stand to-day by Wordsworth’s tomb. When Byron’s eyes were shut in death, We bowed our head and held our breath. He taught us little; but...

  • “WHY, when the world’s great mind Hath finally inclined, Why,” you say, Critias, “be debating still? Why, with these mournful rhymes Learned in more languid climes, Blame our activity Who, with such passionate will, Are what we mean to be?” Critias, long since, I...

  • Come, dear children, let us away; Down and away below. Now my brothers call from the bay; Now the great winds shorewards blow; Now the salt tides seaward flow; Now the wild white horses play, Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. Children dear, let us away. This way, this way....

  • The Sea is calm to-night. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits;—on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay. Come to the window, sweet is the night-air! Only, from the long line of spray Where the...

  • Hark! ah, the nightingale! The tawny-throated! Hark! from that moonlit cedar what a burst! What triumph! hark,—what pain! O wanderer from a Grecian shore, Still,—after many years, in distant lands,— Still nourishing in thy bewildered brain That wild, unquenched, deep-sunken, Old-world pain...