|ELCore.Net > Poetry > Catholic Poets > Poems of Alice Meynell|
I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong,|
I shun the thought that lurks in all delight
The thought of theeand in the blue Heaven’s height,
And in the sweetest passage of a song.
O just beyond the fairest thoughts that throng|
This breast, the thought of thee waits, hidden yet bright;
But it must never, never come in sight;
I must stop short of thee the whole day long.
But when sleep comes to close each difficult day,|
When night gives pause to the long watch I keep,
And all my bonds I needs must loose apart,
Must doff my will as raiment laid away,|
With the first dream that comes with the first sleep
I run, I run, I am gathered to thy heart.
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Lane Core Jr. (email@example.com)
Created April 11, 2001; not revised.