The Soul's Desire

By Jeanne Robert Foster.

Love doth not serve Life's dumb and driven shame;
Nor is Love blind-Love hath all-seeing eyes,
And walks clear-visioned in her paradise,
And tends nought there save her own altar flame;
Hears but one sound-Love's immemorial name.
Knowing Love moveth to itself; and cries
Above the clangor of earth's sense-born lies,
Upon each soul within a mortal frame.
Love serveth only Love. Oh, turn away
My soul from dust, seek not joy in the clay!
But with Promethean pang usurp thy fate
Of Godland-with the Immortal Substance mate;
The unquenchable, ethereal fire-
Creation Infinite-the Soul's desire.



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