A Prayer
Since that I may not haveLove on this side the grave,Let me imagine Love.Since not mine is the blissOf 'claspt hands and lips that kiss,'Let me in dreams it prove.What tho' as the years rollNo soul shall melt to my soul,Let me conceive such thing;Tho' never shall entwineLoving arms around mineLet dreams caresses bring.To live--it is my doom--Lonely as in a tomb,This cross on me was laid;My God, I know not why;Here in the dark I lie,Lonely, yet not afraid.It has seemed good to TheeStill to withhold the keyWhich opes the way to men;I am shut in alone,I make not any moan,Thy ways are past my ken.Yet grant me this, to findThe sweetness in my mindWhich I must still forego;Great God which art above,Grant me to image Love,--The bliss without the woe.
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