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 moments 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, loves ocean is my vessel,
And loves 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.