Page:Songs of the Soul (1923).djvu/46

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SONGS OF THE SOUL


The food for which thou wept’st awaits,—par-  take !—Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!
Friends and wealth and fancy’s rarest treat,Posthumous wishes sprung from deathless roots  so sweetDid fail to feed thy heart’s true craveAnd burned with thousand flaming wavesThe nectar sought for seeks thee now;-—par-  take,—Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!
My hunger burned and wept to drinkThe mysteries by life’s bare brink,—Ambrosial fount that sleep beneathThe mystery caves on soil of truth:Weep more drops, nay streams—oceans—of tears,Thy duty is for peace to weep; thy only careTo seek thy work; and all thy foodBe what doth nourish thy mood;Thy work is done, thy nectar’s here,—Quench, quench the eternal ache!—Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!

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