A Cry + 

Lord, hear my discontent: all blank I stand, + 

A mirror polished by thy hand; + 

Thy sun’s beams flash and flame from me⁠— + 

I cannot help it: here I stand, there he! + 

To one of them I cannot say, + 

Go, and on yonder water play; + 

Nor one poor ragged daisy can I fashion⁠— + 

I do not make the words of this my limping passion! + 

If I should say, Now I will think a thought, + 

Lo, I must wait, unknowing + 

What thought in me is growing, + 

Until the thing to birth be brought! + 

Nor know I then what next will come + 

From out the gulf of silence dumb: + 

I am the door the thing will find + 

To pass into the general mind! + 

I cannot say “I think⁠—” + 

I only stand upon the thought-well’s brink: + 

From darkness to the sun the water bubbles up⁠— + 

lift it in my cup. + 

Thou only thinkest⁠—I am thought; + 

Me and my thought thou thinkest. Nought + 

Am I but as a fountain spout + 

From which thy water welleth out. + 

Thou art the only one, the all in all.⁠— + 

Yet when my soul on thee doth call + 

And thou dost answer out of everywhere, + 

I in thy allness have my perfect share. + 