From: The Dial, Vol. I, No. I (July 1840).
Author:
Published: Weeks Jordan and Company 1840 Boston
THOUGHT is deeper than all speech, We are spirits clad in veils: Heart to heart was never known: Like the stars that gem the sky, What is social company Only when the Sun of Love Only when our souls are fed We, like parted drops of rain,
Feeling deeper than all thought:
Souls to souls can never teach
What unto themselves was taught.
Man by man was never seen:
All our deep communing fails
To remove the shadowy screen.
Mind with mind did never meet:
We are columns left alone
Of a temple once complete.
Far apart though seeming near,
In our light we scattered lie;
All is thus but starlight here.
But a babbling summer stream?
What our wise philosophy
But the glancing of a dream?
Melts the scattered stars of thought,
Only when we live above
What the dim-eyed world hath taught,
By the Fount which gave them birth,
And by inspiration led
Which they never drew from earth,
Swelling till they meet and run,
Shall be all absorbed again,
Melting, flowing into one.
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