God, God! <br />With a child’s voice I cry, <br />Weak, sad, confidingly— <br /> God, God! <br />Thou knowest, eyelids, raised not always up <br />Unto Thy love (as none of ours are), droop <br /> As ours, o’er many a tear! <br />Thou knowest, though Thy universe is broad, <br />Two little tears suffice to cover all: <br />Thou knowest, Thou, who art so prodigal <br />Of beauty, we are oft but stricken deer <br />Expiring in the woods—that care for none <br />Of those delightsome flowers they die upon. <br /> <br />O blissful Mouth which breathed the mournful breath <br />We name our souls, self-spoilt!—by that strong passion <br />Which paled Thee once with sighs,—by that strong death <br />Which made Thee once unbreathing—from the wrack <br />Themselves have called around them, call them back, <br />Back to Thee in continuous aspiration! <br /> For here, O Lord, <br />For here they travel vainly,—vainly pass <br />From city-pavement to untrodden sward, <br />Where the lark finds her deep nest in the grass <br />Cold with the earth’s last dew. Yea, very vain <br />The greatest speed of all these souls of men <br />Unless they travel upward to the throne <br />Where sittest THOU, the satisfying ONE, <br />With help for sins and holy perfectings <br />For all requirements—while the archangel, raising <br />Unto Thy face his full ecstatic gazing, <br />Forgets the rush and rapture of his wings.<br /><br />Elizabeth Barrett Browning<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-the-soul-s-travelling/
