The poem
WHY does this sudden passion smite me? I stretch my hands, all blind to see: I need the lamp of the world to light me, Lead me and set me free.
Something a moment seemed to stoop from The night with cool, cool breath on my face: Or did the hair of the twilight droop from Its silent wandering ways?
About me in the thick wood netted The wizard glow looks human-wise; And over the tree-tops barred and fretted Ponders with strange old eyes.
The tremulous lips of air blow by me And hymn their time-old melody: Its secret strain comes nigh and nigh me: “Ah, brother, come with me;
“For here the ancient mother lingers To dip her hands in the diamond dew, And lave thine ache with cloud-cool fingers Till sorrow die from you.”