Now at the hush of wind and earth and sky, Sleep bridles beasts and holds the birds aground, Night drives her star-lined chariot on its round, And, waveless, seas lie bedded, only I Still see and think and burn and rave and fret. My bringer of sweet pain undoes me more. In rage and tears, mine is a state of war And thoughts of Her are all the peace I get. Thus drink I sweet and bitter draughts that flow Forth from a single, living fountain's spray. One single hand both heals and deals each blow. To keep my ship of martyrdom at sea Have I a thousand births and d**hs a day. So far is my salvation's port from me.