"Would that my acts could equal the noble acts I've told.
Would that I could but master myself as visions bold!"
So cried a famous artist, in agony of soul,
As waves of great temptation before him high did roll.
"Oh, would that I could body the thoughts that govern me.
Oh, would that I could picture the visions I foresee!"
So cried a saintly woman, in ecstasy of pain,
As waves of sad depression rolled on her soul to gain.