With recognising eyes Look from your Paradise— "God bless Thy hopelessness!"
Call, holy soul, O call The hosts angelical, And say,— "See, far away
"Lies one I saw on earth; One stricken from his birth With curse Of destinate verse.
"What place doth He ye serve For such sad spirit reserve,— Given, In dark lieu of Heaven,
"The impitiable Dæmon, Beauty, to adore and dream on, To be Perpetually
"Hers, but she never his? He reapeth miseries; Foreknows His wages woes;
"He lives detachèd days; He serveth not for praise; For gold He is not sold;
"Deaf is he to world's tongue; He scorneth for his song The loud Shouts of the crowd;
"He asketh not world's eyes; Not to world's ears he cries; Saith,—'These Shut, if you please';
"He measureth world's pleasure, World's ease, as Saints might measure; For hire Just love entire