I

I.

CANNOT find thee. Still on restless pinion

My spirit beats the void where thou dost dwell,

I wander lost through all thy vast dominion,

And shrink beneath thy light ineffable.

2.

I cannot find thee. E'en when most adoring,
Before thy throne I bend in lowliest prayer;
Beyond these bounds of thought my thought upsoaring
From farthest quest comes back: thou art not there.

The end is clear, how wide soe'er I roam;

The hand that holds the worlds my steps is guiding,

And I must rest at last in thee, my home.

ELIZA SCUDder, 1821