“EACH HATH THE TYPE OF BLISS WITHIN HIS THOUGHT”
Each hath the Type of bliss within his thought
That utters for him all his Life would be:
The summit of his soul’s felicity,
The consummation wherein should be wrought
In deft attainment all his spirit bought
Awhile in fervent hope—whose roundest fee
’Twas good to pay. ’Tis so: enough! For me,
Be it amiss or be it fitly sought,
This would I crave—that mine and thy full soul
May touch their mutual deep content, howe’er
Life twists its tortuous course; may still control
Their Individuality, yet fare
So subtly each on each, that as one whole
They might stretch to their goal in God’s pure air.