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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - O For A Soul
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O for a soul surrendered of all guile!
 A plain white soul with nothing on it writ,
 No creed of mockery to make men smile,
 No boast of wisdom travestied as wit;
 Only a clean soul where the infinite
 Calm of the heavens, as on some tropic isle,
 Should have looked down and on the face of it,
 Inscribed in sunlight, ``Nothing here was vile.``
 --Thus to my life I argue it to--day,
 Thus chide my heart its too long vanity,
 Its lawless strength, its insolence of play,
 Its ancient rage of storm--tossed chivalry.
 And yet, God wot, should Love`s wind breathe my way,
 My heart would rise still, a tumultuous Sea.
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