"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.