The Light That In Us Burns

The wasted years of labour spent

In fruitless talk and argument,

Desire dreamed yet once-fulfilled

No desire is ever stilled,

Turmoil of the groping mind

The streams of thought that turn and wind

And nowhere lead but there and back

As in an endless cul-de-sac,

But now the peace descending flows,

A settling calm and wideness grows

And all the outer being yearns

To know the light that in us burns

As spirit-flame, the soul, aspires

To reach those vast immortal fires

As uniting leaf and branch of tree

Stretches towards its destiny.