St. Brandan

Tell me, darling night,
Of your endless depth; Tell me, shining stars
Of your sacred rest; Tell me, O human soul!
Of the fleeting time.
I, like the starry night,
Stiffen through the fresh bloom subdue.
But that tiny grain, When once it falls,
And the wind’s whisp’ring tune Will melt the light, and soon,
To soil we’ll pass
What a sweet longing so sweet shows.

• Matthew Arnold