My mind of light ascends like a soaring bird of the blue
Preparing long its skyward flight in the dull grey of the dust;
By a half-formed ear and a half-formed eye sure death to eschew
Now it brings in this earthliness a form of the high august.
Even in darkness it enlarged the image of the word
And opened the sight of sleeping eyes the myriad to see;
Tuning ears to strains of dulcet music it stirred
In the lifeless seas the calm of breath for life to be.
Not in a vessel of wants, a heart of needs, does joy expand,
For passion and force of life were hoofs of the steed of desire;
But quaffing the waters of confluence in the chalice grand
It has become the drinker of delight of an unfelt fire.
Swift to the realms of thought I rose and thence to silence,
As though beyond the silver ranges all my kingdoms withdrew;
Hushed were the thunder, lightnings, wind, the rays, the sky immense
And my mind of light was given to the soaring bird of the true.