Not quite embodied in their lusty hymns.
And so I come: and though I go, be sure
That I will come again to-morrow, too;
And, Love’s fanatic, hasten to endure
The littleness that is so great in you.
I am the weakling of that helpless strength
That throws this broken body you despise
Before your carelessness, to find at length
The faith that sleeps behind your faithless eyes.