Why does my heart not bend its way,As though it were the heart of clay?
Had it been reckless once, I'd pleadExcuse enough for such misdeed;
Yet it sings out and takes delight at dawn and dusk's declining light,It gazes here and there, afraid the path of guidance is mislaid;
O heart, fear not the errant road,Nor heed what seems an impossible load;
What harm if thou shouldst quench the thirst of soul that would not be coerced?Since thy love bears no taint of shame,
A little breath could quench its flame;Lower thy wing but once, and thou
Shalt find the sacred revelation now;Gamble with all thy feelings' store,
And soon a substitute shall please thee more;Search there, and do not halt thy quest
Till thou hast found thy spirit's guest;And if thou findest joy, then here
Is fellowship with fellowship sincere;Search on, search on — hearts are the guide's own thrall at eventide.
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