I plead with thee—draw near;
I’d share thy rapture; ’twould be heaven begun;
O Hermit sweet, appear.
Still thou wilt not, and while I long and dream
Of all that’s best for us—
The King, His primal ministers—what gleam
Of highest genius?
Sing on, elusive bird, in thy retreat,
Songs to my waiting soul;
Some day inviting rounds will be complete,