Loosen my breast and let the sun's rays free,
Re-capture them and hoard them up again;
And so will halt the summer at its prime.
Lord, I am mad; but Thou canst heal my mind.
Once, not long since—long after Thou hadst made
And bastioned with grace my living soul—
Thou, in a careless hour, didst plan my frame,
Moulding my body from the oozy day;
But, just before Thy task was most complete,
Didst nod, and drowse, and waking didst forget