Thine were the weak, slight hands <br />That might have taken this strong soul, and bent <br />Its stubborn substance to thy soft intent, <br />And bound it unresisting, with such bands <br />As not the arm of envious heaven had rent. <br /> <br />Thine were the calming eyes <br />That round my pinnace could have stilled the sea, <br />And drawn thy voyager home, and bid him be <br />Pure with their pureness, with their wisdom wise, <br />Merged in their light, and greatly lost in thee. <br /> <br />But thou-thou passed'st on, <br />With whiteness clothed of dedicated days, <br />Cold, like a star; and me in alien ways <br />Thou leftest following life's chance lure, where shone <br />The wandering gleam that beckons and betrays.<br /><br />William Watson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lux-perdita/
