Chapter XI

My every purpose fashioned by some thought of thee,
Though as a feather's weight that shapes the arrow's flight it be;
No single joy complete in which thou hast no fee,
Though thy share be the star and mine its shadow in the sea;
Thy very pulse my pulse, thy every prayer my prayer.
Thy love my blue o'erreaching sky that bounds me everywhere,--
Yet free, Beloved, free! for this encircling air
I cannot leave behind, doth but love's boundlessness declare.