'Tis not in seeking,'Tis not in endless strivingThy quest is found.Be still and listen.Be still, and rink the silenceOf all around.
Not for the crying,Nor for Thy loud beseechingWill peace draw near.Rest, with palms folded,Rest with thine eyelids fallen --Lo, peace is here.
Too late I loved you, O Beauty so ancient yet ever new! Too late I loved you! And, behold, you were within me, and I out of myself, and there I searched for you.
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