'HAST thou then nought wiser to bring
Than worn-out songs of moon and rose?'
'Cracked my voice and broken my wing,
'Tell'st thou no truth of the life that is;
Seek'st thou from heaven no pitying sign?'
'Ask thine own heart these mysteries,
'Where then the faith thou hast brought to seed?
Where the sure hope thy soul would feign?'
'Never ebbed sweetness—even out of a weed—
'Fool. The night comes. . . . 'Tis late. Arise:
Cold lap the waters of Jordan stream.'
'Deep be their flood and tranquil thine eyes
With a dream.'