Renouncement

I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong,          I shun the thought that lurks in all delight--          The thought of thee--and in the blue Heaven's height,     And in the sweetest passage of a song.     Oh, just beyond the fairest thoughts that throng          This breast, the thought of thee waits, hidden yet bright;          But it must never, never come in sight;     I must stop short of thee the whole day long.     But when sleep comes to close each difficult day,          When night gives pause to the long watch I keep,                 And all my bonds I needs must loose apart,     Must doff my will as raiment laid away,--          With the first dream that comes with the first sleep                 I run, I run, I am gathered to thy heart.