Blind Quest


When I am weary, weary, weary, by night and by day,
And my mind is afloat on the oceans of night,
When my body is moving, moving along the beaten way,
And I know it not, nor aught, but the feeling of flight;
I would rest for ever in silence
That is dark for the want of man’s light;
I would rest forever in silence
Where is neither hard toil nor yet play,
For one is the other, as sorrow delight.

When my eyes are tired, tired and swollen and sore,
And the heavy lids close almost never to ope,
Each falling shut like a clanging metal door,
And about my aching head fierce pain has drawn its rope,
I would dream for ever of eyes
That are slumb’rous yet watchful with hope,
I would dream for ever of eyes,
In the light of their love evermore,
And be lost to the world, and cease there to grope.

But I am harried, harried, harried by night and by day,
Urged on by demons that forbid rest or turn;
A little success is blinding as is a spatter of spray,
A modest triumph burning as a tot of strange wine will burn;
But failure comes ever to quench
And my faint successes to spurn,
As the green sea-wave will drench
Where stings the spattered spray;
Yet life calls, calls; one day I its message may learn.

20. 11. 30