A Vision of St. Eligius + 

I see thy house, but I am blown about, + 

A wind-mocked kite, between the earth and sky, + 

All out of doors⁠—alas! of thy doors out, + 

And drenched in dews no summer suns can dry. + 

For every blast is passion of my own; + 

The dews cold sweats of selfish agony; + 

Dank vapour steams from memories lying prone; + 

And all my soul is but a stifled cry. + 

Lord, thou dost hold my string, else were I driven + 

Down to some gulf where I were tossed no more, + 

No turmoil telling I was not in heaven, + 

No billows raving on a blessed shore. + 

Thou standest on thy door-sill, calm as day, + 

And all my throbs and pangs are pulls from thee; + 

Hold fast the string, lest I should break away + 

And outer dark and silence swallow me. + 

No longer fly thy kite, Lord; draw me home. + 

Thou pull’st the string through all the distance bleak; + 

Lord, I am nearing thee; O Lord, I come; + 

Thy pulls grow stronger and the wind grows weak. + 

In thy remodelling hands thou tak’st thy kite; + 

A moment to thy bosom hold’st me fast. + 

Thou flingest me abroad:⁠—lo, in thy might + 

A strong-winged bird I soar on every blast! + 