Renouncement by Alice Meynell — Read

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.

O 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.