The heart sees what the mind dares not perceive
And pitches camp when common sense cries, ‘Flee!’
If sober thought suggests a time to leave
Straightway the heart replies, ‘Where should we be
But rescuing ourselves from willful sloth
Which blots both mind and sense — as is our wont.
I know what you do not; forego your wrath,
Shall dreaming spires and vaults reprove a font?
Abide with me, acknowledging desire
For just this once. All common sense is blind;
Nor can it see each wish as gilded wire.
The heart knows what is hidden from the mind.’
Aah, who would wish to know — for good, for ill —
Tomorrow’s fate today? My heart, be still!