And, by song's assistance, Unto your dim distance, My soul uplifted is on wings, and beckoned higher, nigher. By the sweeter wisdom You return unspeaking, Though endless, hopeless, be the search, we exalt our souls in seeking. XIX. Higher, yet, and higher, Ever nigher, ever nigher, To the glory we conceive not, let us toil and strive and strain! The agonized yearning, The imploring and the burning, Grown awfuller, intenser, at each vista we attain, And clearer, brighter, growing, Up the gulfs of heaven wander, Higher, higher yet, and higher, to the Mystery we ponder! XX. Yea, higher yet, and higher, Ever nigher, ever nigher, While men grow small by stooping and the reaper piles the grain, Can it then be bootless, Profitless and fruitless, The weary aching upward search for what we never gain? Is there not awaiting Rest and golden weather, Where, passionately purified, the singers may meet together? XXI. Up! higher yet, and higher, Through voids that Milton and the rest beat still with seraph-wings; Out through the great gate creeping Where God hath put his sleeping A dewy cloud detaining not the soul that soars and sings; Up! higher yet, and higher Fainting nor retreating, Beyond the sun, beyond the stars, to the far bright realm of meeting! XXII. O Mystery! O Passion! To sit on earth, and fashion, What floods of music visibled may fill that fancied place! To think, the least that singeth, Aspireth and upspringeth, May weep glad tears on Keats's breast and look in Milton's face! When human power and failure Are equalized for ever, And the one great Light that haloes all is the passionate bright endeavour! XXIII. But ah, that pale moon roaming Through fleecy mists of gloaming, Furrowing with pearly edge the jewel-powdered sky, And ah, the days departed With your friendship gentle-hearted, And ah, the dream we dreamt that night, together, you and I! |