Some day, the promised goal.
And then some disappearing portion high,
Some joy just out of reach;
The more immortals yield to devotion’s tie,
The more must they beseech.
Sing on, blest bird, beyond my poor purview,
But near my home and heart:
“I love, I love, I LOVE; yes I love YOU!”[8]
This, thy crescendo art.
I find myself quite charmed, yet almost lost,