The silent hunger of my prisoned heart
Yearns beyond the fret of mere desire
For larger limits, softer servitude,
And stretches prayer to claim its boundless home.
The voiceless angel of unfettered thought
Awakes me in a burst of lambent peace;
Inertia fades as undiscerned I rise
And glide past sleeping guards and noiseless gates.
The world, though I return, cannot confine
The heart enlarged by grace. Now I tread light,
Embrace my suffering comrades. Now we labor
Outward, patient and sure, though rough hands bleed.
