Yearning

 

Evening stars and morning suns,

And all the callous, vagrant runs

Of empty days that cross the sea

Of dark, unhallowed memory..

.

Day in, day out, the fiend red sands

Run through death's steely, glassy hands;

And passion's waters break and roar,

Tide in, tide out, upon thought's shore.

 

And Beauty that awakes to kiss

The soul, but falls in pain's abyss;

Losing all meaning in earth's mesh,

All sanctity within the flesh.

 

When will You cut the devil-masks

And give us all the spirit asks;

Beyond Time's tainted sands and seas,

Waft us to pristine purities?

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