DE PROFUNDIS.
Oh why is heaven built so far, Oh why is earth set so remote? I cannot reach the nearest star That hangs afloat.
I would not care to reach the moon, One round monotonous of change; Yet even she repeats her tune Beyond my range.
I never watch the scattered fire Of stars, or sun's far-trailing train, But all my heart is one desire, And all in vain:
For I am bound with fleshly bands, Joy, beauty, lie beyond my scope; I strain my heart, I stretch my hands, And catch at hope.