What loneness of heart! what wishing to die
In that soul in the earth, that was born for the sky!
We parted wood-curtains, pushed westward and we,
Why, we wandered and wandered a half year through,
We tented with herds as the Arabs do,
And at last lay down by the sundown sea.
Then there in that sun did my soul take fire!
It burned in its fervor, thou Venice, for thee!
My glad heart glowed with the one desire
To stride to the front, to live, to be!