Unrest (The Disciple)
(The Saviour of the World, Vol II Book II Poem XXV)
Small boon is leisure in these restless days!
Rather we crave that every moment find
Us taxed to weariness of limbs and mind,
Kind weariness, that e’en unrest obeys!
For, ah, how life on our tense spirit weighs
In heavy pauses, for our ease assigned,
When needful occupation lags behind,
And, choosing its own paths, the spirit strays!
Aching and longing, quiv’ring with unrest,
For which the moment fain shows cause and name,—
Friends trust us not enough, or cares infest,
Or our own evil grieves, or wrongs inflame;—
The cause is one; at issue still with life,
The soul seeks ease in cries—its peace, through strife!