Poems (Taylor)/Body and Soul
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.
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.
—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:
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 blind
The accusation of her hunted eyes.
When the last shameful agony shall blind
The accusation of her hunted eyes.