WE have built high walls of pomp and pride
And wealth, around our inmost Being,
And deep, unseen, within there hide
Visions too bright for our dull seeing.
We yearning stand, and cannot pass
To where the Soul with these is One;
Our utterance is as the grass
Withering beneath the noonday sun.
The Waters of Infinity
Break on the spirit's lonely shore:
Lo! the wall crumbles, and we see
All we have hoped and striven for.
O, then all time is lost in Time,
The Soul has burst its prison-bars:
We walk with feet still deep in slime.
But with our heads above the stars.
