WHEN I shake off the outer things That, thronging, drag me fifty ways -- The busy needs, the little stings That hum about my usual days -- I come into a secret place And meet my true self, face to face. Quiet removal from the press, A breathing-room wherein the soul Knows love and love's own tenderness, And in a dream descries the goal; There wholesome thoughts and sweet confer, Like garments laid in lavender. Anew I feel that I belong -- Alien and outcast though I be -- To the great Spirit whose far song Makes an ineffable harmony; And, with a rhythm in my feet, I fare me forth my fate to greet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MONODY ON THE DEATH OF WILLIAM MARION REEDY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE BURIAL OF BOSTON CORBETT (ONE WARDEN TO ANOTHER) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS OH! SUSANNA! by STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER PASSING AWAY by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN by ALFRED TENNYSON THE BOOK OF EXODUS: SONG OF THE SEA by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |