Poems (Taylor)/Body and Soul

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BODY AND SOUL.
The spirit is a spotless doe that haunts The vast, pure woods of God. Thro' her domain She feels the calm sweet days unsullied wane,And white dream-Dryads are her ministrants.
And, thro' the flattered leaves the love-light slants, —Till suddenly shrieks her softly-slumbering pain. The hounds o' the flesh are on the trail again,And on, on, on, the sobbing quarry pants.
Who is the Hunter that unleashed the pack? Was it a god's strange heart the sport designed?She only knows He cannot call them back:
That only to the flaming hour she flies When the last shameful agony shall blindThe accusation of her hunted eyes.
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