II
Wanderer, wanderer, whither away?
What saith the high noon unto thee?
"Wanderer, wanderer, hither, turn hither,
Far to the burning South with me,"
Saith the soft wind on the high June headland,
Sheering up from the summer sea,
"While the implacable warder, Oblivion,
Sleeps on the marge of a foamless sea!
"Come where the urge of desire availeth,
And no fear follows the children of men;
For a handful of dust is the only heirloom
The morrow bequeaths to its morrow again.
"Touch and feel how the flesh is perfect
Beyond the compass of dream to be!
'Bone of my bone,' said God to Adam;
'Core of my core,' say I to thee.
"Look and see how the form is goodly
Beyond the reach of desire and art!
For he who fashioned the world so easily
Laughed in his sleeve as he walked apart.
"Therefore, O wanderer, cease from desiring;
Take the wide province of seaway and sun!
Here for the infinite quench of thy craving,
Infinite yearning and bliss are one."