To an age so blest that, by its side,
Youth seems the waste instead?
My own, see where the years conduct!
At first, 't was something our two souls
Should mix as mists do; each is sucked
In each now: on, the new stream rolls,
Whatever rocks obstruct.
Think, when our one soul understands
The great Word which makes all things new.
When earth breaks up and heaven expands,