Mother of things impossible,

Sister of what can never be,

Thou whose closed lips will never tell

The words whose lack is misery

Sit by my side while I ignore.

Smile by my ignorance of thee,

And my lost solitude restore.

Oh, life is sad as things unwilled,

Love is the day that never comes

To those blind as my soul, and filled

With that pressage of coming drums

When the city shall fall, that haunts

The inner vision whose night hums

In us while death startingly chaunts.

O interpret my soul to me!

Give me no truth, no sight, no road,

But take from me the misery

Of consciousness and the unseen goal

Of seeking ever what doth seem.

Lighten with being‑near my load!

O let me hold thy hand and dream!