Reach out thy hands, thy spirit's hands to me
And pluck the Youth, the magic from my heart-
Magic of dreams whose sensibility
Is plumed like the light; visions that start.
Mad pressure in the blood: desire that thrills
The soul with mad delight; to yearning wed
All slothfulness of life: draw from its bed
The soul of dawn across the twilight hills.

Reach out thy hands, O spirit, till I feel
That I am fully thine: for I shall live
In the proud consciousness that thou dost give:
And if thy twilight fingers round me steal
And draw me unto death-thy votary
Am I, O Life, reach out thy hands to me!