  Look in, O Mystic, on thy lease, Thou tenant soul in God's demesne; Forego the show of eyes that fail, And walk the world that cannot pale, Thine by a sealed and termless lien Within His met eternities. Yet look thou out from thy still hour With eyes that know and bear His fire; Till kindling on thy wonder's verge The transient days immortal merge In Him fulfilled as worlds expire In nestled love, a song, a flower. |
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