As a humble homunculus, later on,
I crept to your cave at night,
And howled long, love-lorn howls in vain
To my lady troglodyte.
And I grew insane at your cold disdain,
And my howlings filled the place,
Till your father sought me out one night,
And again I yearned in space.
Then, Light of my lives! Is the time not yet?
Say, in what distant life—
In what dim age that is still to come
May I win and call you wife?
Still high above! My Love, my Love!
Nay, how can I raise my eyes
To you, my Star of the Eocene,
My ever elusive prize?
Lo, Time speeds on, the suns grow cold,
And the earth infirm and hoar,
And, ages past, we are here at last—
Ay, both on the earth once more.
But, alas, Dear Heart, as far apart
As e'er in this cosmic whirl;
For I'm but a lowly writer-man
And you are a tea-room girl.
