Time after time I came to your gate with raised hands, asking for
more and yet more.

You gave and gave, now in slow measure, now in sudden excess.

I took some, and some things I let drop; some lay heavy on my
hands; some I made into playthings and broke them when tired;
till the wrecks and the hoard of your gifts grew immense, hiding
you, and the ceaseless expectation wore my heart out.

Take, oh take--has now become my cry.

Shatter all from this beggar's bowl: put out this lamp of the
importunate watcher: hold my hands, raise me from the
still-gathering heap of your gifts into the bare infinity of
your uncrowded presence.



XXIX

You have set me among those who are defeated.

I know it is not for me to win, nor to leave the game.

I shall plunge into the pool although but to sink to the bottom.

I shall play the game of my undoing.

I shall stake all I have and when I lose my last penny I shall