The Cloud

I do not know how you can shun His sight who sees himself a clod Whose blindness still outstares the sun And gazes on the hidden God. I do not know how you can hate A heart so set about with fire, A sword so linked with heavy fate And broken with unknown desire. I see your eyes with glory blaze And splendour bind your dusky hair, And ever through the nights and days My soul must struggle with despair. Your beauty must forever be My cloud of anguish, and your breath Raise sorrow like the surging sea Around the windy wastes of death.