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And cease from impotence of zeal,
And cease from hope, and cease from dread,
And cease from yearnings without gain,
And cease from all this world of pain,
And be at peace among the dead.

Why should I seek and never find

That something which I have not had?
Fair and unutterably sad

The world hath sought time out of mind.
Our words have been already said,
Our deeds have been already done:
There's nothing new beneath the sun,
But there is peace among the dead.

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Hope on through all your life
Until the end, dear friend:
Live through your noble life

Where joy and promise blend—
I too will live my life
Until the end.

Long may your vine entwine,
Long may your fig-tree spread,

Their paradise of shade

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So my spirit fails
After thee.

As dew leaves not a trace
On the green earth's face;
I, no trace
On thy face.

Its goal the river knows,
Dewdrops find a way,
Sunlight cheers the rose
In her day:

Shall I, lone sorrow past,
Find thee at the last?

Sorrow past,

Thee at last?

FOR THINE OWN SAKE, O MY GOD.
[A Pageant etc. 1881.]

WEARIED of sinning, wearied of repentance,
Wearied of self, I turn, my God, to Thee;
To Thee, my Judge, on Whose allrighteous sentence
Hangs mine eternity:

I turn to Thee, I plead Thyself with Thee,—
Be pitiful to me.

Wearied I loathe myself, I loathe my sinning,
My stains, my festering sores, my misery:
Thou the Beginning, Thou ere my beginning
Didst see and didst foresee

Me miserable, me sinful, ruined me, -
I plead Thyself with Thee.

I plead Thyself with Thee Who art my maker,
Regard Thy handiwork that cries to Thee;

I plead Thyself with Thee Who wast partaker
Of mine infirmity;

Love made Thee what Thou art, the love of me,I plead Thyself with Thee.

“OF HIM THAT WAS READY TO PERISH”.
[A Pageant etc. 1881.]

LORD, I am waiting, weeping, watching for Thee:
My youth and hope lie by me buried and dead,
My wandering love hath not where to lay its head
Except Thou say "Come to Me."

My noon is ended, abolished from life and light,
My noon is ended, ended and done away,

My sun went down in the hours that still were day,
And my lingering day is night.

How long, O Lord, how long in my desperate pain Shall I weep and watch, shall I weep and long for Thee? Is Thy grace ended, Thy love cut off from me? How long shall I long in vain?

O God Who before the beginning hast seen the end, Who hast made me flesh and blood, not frost and not fire, Who hast filled me full of needs and love and desire And a heart that craves a friend,

Who hast said "Come to Me and I will give thee rest," Who hast said "Take on thee My yoke and learn of Me," Who calledst a little child to come to Thee,

And pillowedst John on Thy breast;

Who spak'st to women that followed Thee sorrowing, Bidding them weep for themselves and weep for their own; Who didst welcome the outlaw adoring Thee all alone, And plight Thy word as a King,—

By Thy love of these and of all that ever shall be,
By Thy love of these and of all the born and unborn,
Turn Thy gracious eyes on me and think no scorn
Of me, not even of me.

Beside Thy Cross I hang on my cross in shame,
My wounds, weakness, extremity cry to Thee:
Bid me also to Paradise, also me,

For the glory of Thy Name.

SŒUR LOUISE DE LA MISÉRICORDE.
(1674.)

[A Pageant etc. 1881.]

I HAVE desired, and I have been desired:
But now the days are over of desire,
Now dust and dying embers mock my fire:
Where is the hire for which my life was hired?
Oh vanity of vanities, desire!

Longing and love, pangs of a perished pleasure,
Longing and love, a disenkindled fire,

And memory a bottomless gulf of mire,
And love a fount of tears outrunning measure:

Oh vanity of vanities, desire!

Now from my heart, love's deathbed, trickles, trickles, Drop by drop slowly, drop by drop of fire,

The dross of life, of love, of spent desire: Alas my rose of life gone all to prickles!

Oh vanity of vanities, desire!

Oh vanity of vanities, desire!

Stunting my hope which might have strained up higher,
Turning my garden-plot to barren mire;

Oh death-struck love, oh disenkindled fire,
Oh vanity of vanities, desire!

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