Invocation

Thou,—whose endearing hand once laid in sooth Upon thy follower, no want thenceforth, Nor toil, nor joy and pain, nor waste of years Filled with all cares that deaden and subdue, Can make thee less to him—can make thee less Than sovereign queen, his first liege, and his last Remembered to the unconscious dying hour,— Return and be thou kind, bright Spirit of song, Thou whom I yet loved most, loved most of all Even when I left thee—I, now so long strayed From thy beholding! And renew, renew Thy gift to me fain clinging to thy robe! Still be thou kind, for still thou wast most dear.

Collection: 
English
Edmund Clarence Stedman

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