Genius

He cried aloud to God: “The men below Are happy, for I see them come and go, Parents and mates and friends, paired, clothed with love; They heed not, see not, need not me above,— I am alone here. Grant me love and peace, Or, if not them, grant me at least release.” God answered him: “I set you here on high Upon my beacon-tower, you know not why. Your soul-torch by the cruel gale is blown, As desperate as your aching heart is lone. You may not guess but that it shines in vain, Yet, till it is burned out, you must remain.”

Collection: 
English
Edward Lucas White

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