XXX.

"Is your wisdom very wise, Mother, on the narrow earth, Very happy, very worth That I should stay to learn? Are these air-corrupting sighs Fashioned by unlearned breath? Do the students' lamps that burn All night, illumine death? Mother, albeit this be so, Loose thy prayer and let me go Where that bright chief angel stands Apart from all his brother bands, Too glad for smiling, having bent In angelic wilderment O'er the depths of God, and brought Reeling thence one only thought To fill his own eternity. He the teacher is for me-- He can teach what I would know-- Mother, mother, let me go!