“He asks, not grudging pain;
And knows his asking vain,
And cries—
‘Love! Love!’ and dies;
“In guerdon of long duty,
Unowned by Love or Beauty;
And goes—
Tell, tell, who knows!
“Aliens from Heaven’s worth,
Fine beasts who nose i’ the earth,
Do there
Reward prepare.
“But are his great desires
Food but for nether fires?
Ah me,
A mystery!
“Can it be his alone,
To find when all is known,
That what
He solely sought
“Is lost, and thereto lost
All that its seeking cost?
That he
Must finally,
“Through sacrificial tears,
And anchoretic years,
Tryst
With the sensualist?”
So ask; and if they tell
The secret terrible,
Good friend,
I pray thee send
Some high gold embassage
To teach my unripe age.
Tell!
Lest my feet walk hell.