January 7. At Time of Death.

Oh High Heart of mine, Now list to a wonder! Thou shalt vent thy great rages In lightning and thunder. And the force of thy fury, more mighty than they, Shall rock mountains, and rip them asunder. When thou weepest, oh Heart! All thy bitter deploring In the white whirling rains Shall have anguished outpouring. And the salt and the sound of thy grief, like the sea, Shake the night with its sullen wild roaring. When thou lovest, oh Heart! Into sudden fierce flower, 'Neath thy passionate breath In one rapturous hour, Earth shall blossom, all crimson and trembling with love, Stirred to heart by thy rage and thy power. Then, high Heart, be brave! This death is but rending Of limits that vexed, And the ultimate blending With the cosmical passions of Nature thine own, Made immortal, insatiate, unending.