(To a fellow-climber who asked me of my destination)
Enough, that there is That beyond my soul
Which draws me forth! A veiled and brooding Dream,
That, as a gathering vapour, long may roll
About the valley, ere the morning gleam
Kindle its slumbering mist with golden fire!
Bidding it rise, to spread its dewy shade
O’er parching cities, barren waste and mire,
And stony rill, and silent songless glade!
I cannot tell the path my feet shall take
To those who watch the cloudy heights from far!
I only know my spirit is awake
With voices of the Hour, whose urgings are
A World’s necessity, gone forth in me
To seek the Wells of Immortality!