The Struggle
“Body, I pray you, let me go!”
(It is a Soul that struggles so.)
“Body, I see on yonder height
Dim reflex of a solemn light;
A flame that shineth from the place
Where Beauty walks with naked face:
It is a flame you cannot see; —
Lie down, you clod, and set me free.”
“Body, I pray you, let me go!”
(It is a Soul that striveth so.)
“Body, I hear dim sounds afar,
Dripping from some diviner star;
Dim sounds of holy revelry:
It is my mates that sing, and I
Must drink that song or break my heart;—
Body, I pray you, let us part.”
“Comrade! your frame is worn and frail;
Your vital force begins to fail;
I long for life, but you for rest;
Then Body, let us both be blest.
When you are lying 'neath the dew
I'll come, sometimes, and sing to you;
But you will feel nor pain nor woe;—
Body, I pray you, let me go!”
Thus strove a Being: Beauty-fain,
He broke his bonds and fled amain.
He fled: the Body lay bereft,
But on its lips a smile was left,
As if that Spirit, looking back,
Shouted upon his upward track,
With joyous tone and hurried breath,
Some message that could comfort Death.
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