Chapter XVIII

Oh days of fresh and quiet healthfulness
When life is filled with beauty without end,
And inspiration comes familiarly,
A cherished friend.

He comes from lands all sweet and glimmering,
And with his words, more fair than dew, has brought,
Wherewith to set, a gem all luminous,
A sentiment, a thought.

He seizes on our being like a storm,
Rears up our spirit to new heights untrod,
Pours down the fire from beating stars, and brings
The gift of being God.

All fevered transports and profoundest fears
To his own tragic will are ever whirled,
That the pulse of beauty be made young
In the veins of the world.

I am at his mercy, am his ardent prey!

So, when from weary work I take my way,
Toward the deep repose which is your love,
With all my mind's high leaping fire sublime,
It seems--oh, for an instant's time--
That I may offer you, oh love,
As though of my own pulses it were part,
Of the great universe itself, the beating heart.