<SPAN name="XXI"></SPAN>XXI<br/>
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In those hours when we seem shut out<br/>
From all that is not part of us,<br/>
What cleansing flood is it, so nebulous,<br/>
That bathes and circles our two hearts about?<br/>
Joining our hands, without a prayer,<br/>
Arm to arm, without a cry,<br/>
Seeking we know not what nor where,<br/>
Something far off, more pure than thou or I—<br/>
Thou fervent soul, oh say<br/>
How does one live in this yearned-for day?<br/>
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In those high hours how deep doth grow our will<br/>
In front of life's supremacies!<br/>
What need of other heavens still,<br/>
Wherein with newer gods to cope!<br/>
What anguish and what ecstasies,<br/>
And what unflinching hope<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To be, one day,</span><br/>
Through death itself, the prey<br/>
Of these far silent agonies!<br/>
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