26
Against the light, an infidel, My heart, unfettered, doth rebel; It bows before God’s sanctuary, And idols serves, indifferently.
It sets a balance, to access The value of its righteousness, Ready to strike a bargain smart With God, in resurrection’s mart.
It would have earth and heaven fulfil All the requirements of its will, And claims, though dust, a judge to be With a divine authority.
Anon it will with God accord, Anon it fights against the Lord, Stands for a time as truth’s ally. And then it doth the truth deny.
While in its essence void of hue, It paints a lying image, too: A Moses, who the part doth bear Of prophet, and of sorcerer!
Its glance a touch of the insane Imparteth to the prudent brain, And yet a lancet it can use The madman’s swelling to reduce.
When shall this traveller reach his goal, The inner chamber of the soul, That doth these thousand years abide At falsehood’s shrine, in slothful pride?
27
Why in the concourse dost Thou seek The poet’s wild, ecstatic shriek, Or lookest for another’s riot, Whose heart is troubled and unquiet?
My affluent muse was taught by thee To swim the waves of melody; Why seekest Thou the gem? Behold, My pierced heart doth the sea enfold.
Except within Thy presence there I stand. I cannot breathe my prayer: My heart before Thy feet I fling— What else should unbeliever bring?
28
Faith and infidelity Fight not for the mind of me; No delights of Paradise Do my stricken soul entice.
Cleave my heart and lay it bare, Thou shall find Thy image there, Gleam pervasive, shadowless, Moonlight on a wilderness.
29
Thine is the hawk upon the wing And thine the thrush sweet carolling, Thine is the light and joy of life And thine its fire and baneful strife.
Thou gayest me a heart awake And, through the world my way to take, A little dust—a moon forlorn Upon a night dark litter borne.
My every thought from thee doth start, Whether on lip or in the heart; Whether the pearl be brought from sea, Or left enfoundered, ‘tis of thee.
I am the selfsame cloud of dust Swept idly as the wind doth lust; Tulip, and springtime’s scattered dew. Thou art their sole creator too.
Thou art the painter; Thy design Inspires and moves this brush of mine; Thy hands the living world adorn, And shape the ages yet unborn.
Much sorrow in my heart I had That by the tongue could not be said: Love, lovelessness, troth, treachery— All things alike are sprung of thee.
30
One step on friendship’s road Fairer I see Than the moat pressing load Of piety.
Take for Thy rest awhile This heart of mine And lay aside Thy toil And task divine.
O come; and tidings bring How stands my heart, Where I am wandering, And where Thou art.
Recall those glances pure Of love intense How long must I endure Indifference?
Last night the burning moon Did me address: ‘Accept the anguish, son, Of unaccess.’
Fair spake she; but, ah yes, My creed of love To live in loneliness Doth not approve.
Before thee I have laid This heart of mine; Haply the twist thread Thou canst untwine.