THE confines of our being are not these br White limbs of sense. Our true selves broader are br And higher than the path of furthest star. br Beyond the reach of sense, each hears and sees br And feels. The root alone of giant trees br 5 br Touches the earth; their branches pierce to heaven. br "To-day," "Here," "There," are to the body given; br Our spirits watch among the eternities. br Dearest, our beings can mingle, and our lips br Kiss off the dark world-sadness from the soul; br 10 br Our hands can clasp, our eyes return love's gaze, br Tho' waste lands moan between, where crimson dips br The westering sun, and tho' wide oceans roll; br Tho' being so far, we breathe in different days.