MOST blessed one, how can I let thee go? 
Canst thou forswear the nightingale its tune-- 
Stay the young sea from following his moon-- 
Bid hyacinth put out her blue light? Oh, 
Thou art not mine but Me! and being so 
How canst thou bid my year stop short of June, 
Or hold my feet from following thine so soon, 
Or bid me build on Heaven's overthrow? 
Nay, how can I put off thy presence? Where 
Should my soul serve without thy sanctities? 
I kneel beside thee, I who am a child 
In thy man's hand, cling to thee spent and wild 
Until my face is hidden in my hair, 
And I fall weeping, weeping, at they knees!