God, God!

        ith a child’s voice I cry,

        eak, sad, fidingly—

        God, God!

        t, eyelids, raised not always up

        Unto thy love (as none of ours are), droop

        As ours, o’er many a tear!

        t, thy universe is broad,

        ttle tears suffice to cover all:

        t, t sal

        Of beauty,    but stri deer

        Expiring in t care for none

        Of tsome flohey die upon.

        O blissful Mouth

        e name our souls, self-spoilt!—by t strong passion

        stroh

        he wrack

        them back,

        Back to tinuous aspiration!

        For here, O Lord,

        For ravel vainly,—vainly pass

        From city-pavement to untrodden sward,

        in the grass

        Cold    dew. Yea, very vain

        test speed of all these souls of men

        Uravel upo throne

        test tisfying ONE,

        itings

        For all requirements—whe argel, raising

        Unto tatic gazing,

        Fets ture of his wings.
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