J. Phoenice

IN HUNGERING

٤٤٠

THE TREASURY

This is such ecstasy of happiness

I shall not sleep, I cannot sleep tonight. Dozing, the sense of rapture grows no less. I do not lose awareness of delight

And start awake again to find its taste Sweet on my tongue as honey on a flower. Every responsiveness of nerve lies waste, And weakness is so great it is a power. At last my inmost being understands The final lees of want that love can bring.. My heart is in the longing of your hands. Strange. Strange. Fulfilment lies in hungering.

Not only for the glories of an hour,

Each worth eternities of suffering,

But for the cast their moulding moments bring To months yet molten in the future's fire. It is the future that will bear the flower Sown in the present of this lovely spring, And the perfection of that blossoming Bear fruit that will enrapture and inspire. Besides the stars of beauty and delight, Patience like warmth and counsel that

sustains

Are rocks to grasp in quicksand hours ahead. Reaching for your affection in the night Or when past thought, nothing but truth

remains,

I shall be grateful blindly, as you said.

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