The Protest of Love

"Those who there take refuge nevermore return."--Bhagavad Gita               Ere I lose myself in the vastness and drowse myself with the peace,     While I gaze on the light and beauty afar from the dim homes of men,     May I still feel the heart-pang and pity, love-ties that I would not release,     May the voices of sorrow appealing call me back to their succour again.          Ere I storm with the tempest of power the thrones and dominions of old,     Ere the ancient enchantment allures me to roam through the star- misty skies,     I would go forth as one who has reaped well what harvest the earth may unfold:     May my heart be o'erbrimmed with compassion, on my brow be the crown of the wise.          I would go as the dove from the ark sent forth with wishes and prayers     To return with the paradise-blossoms that bloom in the eden of light:     When the deep star-chant of the seraphs I hear in the mystical airs     May I capture one tone of their joy for the sad ones discrowned in the night.          Not alone, not alone would I go to my rest in the Heart of the Love:     Were I tranced in the innermost beauty, the flame of its tenderest breath,     I would still hear the plaint of the fallen recalling me back from above     To go down to the side of the mourners who weep in the shadow of death. --May 15, 1896