In many a shape and fleeting apparition,
   Sublime in age or with clear morning eyes,
Ever I seek thee, tantalising Vision,
           Which beckoning flies.
Ever I seek Thee, O evasive Presence,
   Which on the far horizon's utmost verge,
Like some wild star in luminous evanescence,
           Shoots o'er the surge.
Ever I seek Thy features ever flying,
   Which ne'er beheld I never can forget:
Lightning which flames through love, and mimics dying
           In souls that set.
Ever I seek Thee through all clouds of error;
   As when the moon behind earth's shadow slips,
She wears a momentary mask of terror
           In brief eclipse.
Ever I seek Thee, passionately yearning;
   Like altar-fire on some forgotten fane,
My life flames up irrevocably burning,
           And burnt in vain.
Back to Mathilde Blind




 
                      
			
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