All that in life I love the best
Is the sweet fever of thy quest;
The way is like an adder’s sting,
Be not to thee my wayfaring.

Lo, Gabriel with naked heart
Out of love’s bosom doth depart,
Hopeful to catch a spark of fire
From the vast flame of thy desire.

Anon I rend my veil in twain,
Yearning the vision to attain;
Anon with unavailing sight
I veil myself before thy light.

Whether in quest of thee I go,
Or at the last myself to know,
Intellect, heart, sight—all astray
Blindly the wander on thy way.

I was a seedling of thy mead;
Sprinkle thy dew upon my head;
The blossom’s heart will quicken, yet
No drop hall lack the rivulet.