Thinkest thou that to the threshold
I have made this pilgrimage?
With the master of the household
I have business to engage.

O deny me not thy presence,
For a wan, pale spark am I
That to win a moment’s lustre
In eternal fever lie.

Never more will I look backward
On the road that I have traced;
‘Tis to gain the far to-morrow
That, like Time, I forward haste.

Lo, love’s ocean is my vessel,
And love’s ocean is my strand;
For no other ship I hanker,
Nor desire another land.

Scatter now a spark, but gently,
Such a spark as will not burn;
I am newly fledged to needing,
To the nest I would return.

In the far, fond hope that, haply,
Thou wilt hunt for me one day,
From the spinning noose of princes
Like a fawn I leapt away.

And if thou wilt be so gracious,
I will give these friends of mine
A bright glass or two delightful
Of my night-consoling wine.