Now at the hush of wind and earth and sky,
Sleep bridles beasts and holds the birds aground,
Night drives her star-lined chariot on its round,
And, waveless, seas lie bedded, only I
Still see and think and burn and rave and fret.
My bringer of sweet pain undoes me more.
In rage and tears, mine is a state of war
And thoughts of Her are all the peace I get.

Thus drink I sweet and bitter draughts that flow
Forth from a single, living fountain's spray.
One single hand both heals and deals each blow.
To keep my ship of martyrdom at sea
Have I a thousand births and deaths a day.
So far is my salvation's port from me.