A Proselyte

Heart of magnificent desire: O equal of the lordly sun! Since thou hast cast on me thy fire, My cloistral peace, so hardly won, Breaks from its trance: One glance From thee hath all its joy undone.

Of lonely quiet was my dream; Day gliding into fellow day, With the mere motion of a stream: But now in vehement disarray Go time and thought, Distraught With passion kindled at thy ray.

Heart of tumultuary might, O greater than the mountain flame, That leaps upon the fearful night! On me thy devastation came, Sudden and swift; A gift Of joyous torment without name.

Thy spirit stings my spirit: thou Takest by storm and ecstasy The cloister of my soul. And now, With ardour that is agony, I do thy will; Yet still Hear voices of calm memory.