[409] 35

WHERE is the kindred soul that will join me in singing, like David,

Psalms to be borne by the wind up to the threshold of heaven?

All too cold are our sighs; they flutter helplessly earthward

When they should rise like fire, like flame that ascends to the sky.

Day after day goes down into night, and the vision of union

Comes like a dream in the night, doomed to be broken by dawn.

Oh to be free from the weeks and days and their weary succession,

Free as the wind to pass into the courts of the Friend.