Musings in Maoriland
Our souls are sisters! I have felt a thrill
Of wildest joy rush through my every sense,
When from thy liquid orbs ray soul did fill
Affection's cup, and quaffing it until
Intoxicated with its influence,
She offered at thy shrine, heart, mind, and will,
Consuming them with passion's fire intense.
All souls are kindred! each a mystic spark,
Struck from life's anvil in the forge of God;
Each sets aglow its own peculiar clod,
And finds a shelter in its mortal ark.
But some of these are fashioned in the dark,
Mis-shaped, unfinished in the gloom of night,
Whilst other frames are moulded in the light,
With nobler impress and with brighter mark,
The Maker seems unjust in our weak sight,
But He knows what is wrong and what is right.
Twin sparks, our spirits had together birth—
Yours tarried in the pure celestial way
For years, whilst mine descended to the earth,
And took upon itself its garb of clay;
Since then, yours followed from the realms of mirth
To this strange world, and thus we meet to-day.
Thy soul took refuge in a lovely form,
My spirit found a rougher dwelling place,
But still they're one, impulsive, wayward, warm,
Rash, wild, and generous, speaking through the face
Their inmost thoughts, which, in life's mazy race,
Are leaflets blown about by passion's storm,
Not knowing where to rest in tranquil peace,
Pursuing a chimera. * * * Souls, be calm,
The by-and-by will bring a sure release;
I know not what you are, nor what I am,
But in that by-and-by our doubts shall cease.