ERE I lose myself in the vastness and drowse myself with the peace, While I gaze on the light and the beauty afar from the dim homes of men, May I still feel the heart-pang and pity, love-ties that I would not release; May the voices of sorrow appealing call me back to their succour again.
Ere I storm with the tempest of power the thrones and dominions of old, Ere the ancient enchantment allure me to roam through the star-misty skies, I would go forth as one who has reaped well what harvest the earth may unfold; May my heart be o’erbrimmed with compassion; on my brow be the crown of the wise.
I would go as the dove from the ark sent forth with wishes and prayers To return with the paradise blossoms that bloom in the Eden of light: When the deep star-chant of the seraphs I hear in the mystical airs, May I capture one tone of their joy for the sad ones discrowned in the night.
Not alone, not alone would I go to my rest in the heart of the love: Were I tranced in the innermost beauty, the flame of its tenderest breath, I would still hear the cry of the fallen recalling me back from above, To go down to the side of the people who weep in the shadow of death.