When our two souls stand up erect and strong,
Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,
Until the lengthening wings break into fire
At either ... curved point, -- what bitter wrong
Can the earth do to us, that we should not long
Be here contented? Think! In mounting higher,
The angels would press upon us, and aspire
To drop some golden orb of perfect song
Into our deep, dear silence.
A true artist directs readers back to themselves, helps them to discover within their inexhaustible riches. No one can be saved or cured other than through their own efforts. The remedy is Faith.