Aspiration
Give me thy hand, beloved; dost thou see
Yonder far hills against the western sky?
Thither our path. What though before us lie
Hillock and dale? — woods dark with mystery
Of dim, dank pool and strangely twisted tree?
The strong have trod this path: they knew not why,
Perchance, but saw, as we, those hills on high
Loom up in grand and purple majesty.
And shall we stay upon this pleasant plain,
Where shines the sun and sing the birds above?
Where humming bees keep up a soft refrain,
Seeming to murmur ecstasy and love?
We cannot stay. O, love, thy hand! To gain
Those far, dim heights let it be said we strove.
Yonder far hills against the western sky?
Thither our path. What though before us lie
Hillock and dale? — woods dark with mystery
Of dim, dank pool and strangely twisted tree?
The strong have trod this path: they knew not why,
Perchance, but saw, as we, those hills on high
Loom up in grand and purple majesty.
And shall we stay upon this pleasant plain,
Where shines the sun and sing the birds above?
Where humming bees keep up a soft refrain,
Seeming to murmur ecstasy and love?
We cannot stay. O, love, thy hand! To gain
Those far, dim heights let it be said we strove.
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