Hath wept; thy dream was understood by none.
Seek not in vain a friend to know thy ways—
The soul is born eternally alone.
Thou from thy hopeless heart that love shalt cast—
That child of earth, false, illegitimate:
Shalt fling it to the night and wintry blast—
Out in the storm—there let it find its fate.
There motherless and orphaned let it weep,
And let the wind its sobbings onward bear
Unto some desert place, or stormy deep—