Unknown Ideal

Whose is the voice that will not let me rest?I hear it speak.Where is the shore will gratify my quest,Show what I seek?Not yours, weak Muse, to mimic that far voice,With halting tongue;No peace, sweet land, to bid my heart rejoiceYour groves among.

Whose is the loveliness I know is by,Yet cannot place?Is it perfection of the sea or sky,Or human face?Not yours, my pencil, to delineateThe splendid smile!Blind in the sun, we struggle on with FateThat glows the while.

Whose are the feet that pass me, echoingOn unknown ways?Whose are the lips that only part to singThrough all my days?Not yours, fond youth, to fill mine eager eyesOr find that shoreThat will not let me rest, nor satisfiesFor evermore.