Nay—thy soul remembers not?
Work on, and cleanse thy iron pot.”
VII
What are we? I know not.
WHILE LOVELINESS GOES BY
Sometimes when all the world seems grey and dun
And nothing beautiful, a voice will cry,
“Look out, look out! Angels are drawing nigh!”
Then my slow burdens leave me one by one,
And swiftly does my heart arise and run