Whom we Worship by George William Russell — Read

I would not have the love of lips and eyes, / The ancient ways of love: / But in my heart I built a Paradise, / A nest there for the dove.

I felt the wings of light that fluttered through / The gate I held apart: / And all without was shadow, but I knew / The bird within my heart.

Then, while the innermost with music beat, / The voice I loved so long / Seemed only the dream echo faint and sweet / Of a far sweeter song.

I could not even bear the thought I felt / Of Thee and Me therein; / And with white heat I strove the veil to melt / That love to love might win.

But ah, my dreams within their fountain fell; / Not to be lost in thee, / But with the high ancestral love to dwell / In its lone ecstasy.