Poems (Cromwell)/The Quest
THE QUEST
You've been a wanderer, you! But I've been a wanderer, too!
You've seen the fine smoke rising Like a fern uncoiled in spring; And through the shut blind gazing You've seen the white fire blazing;
But often I've knocked at your door For the love I've been asking for.
You've borne, in the starlit expanses Of the hushed night sorrowfully lying, Gleams, like the furtive glances Over one who is dying.
You've seen your sorrow enlarge Like a sphere to solitude's marge; And you've gone in need of bread With thoughts in your heart instead.
So you think I've been filled, to be sure? And you've never guessed how poor My leisured safety is!
How I slake my thirst with song To urge and lure me along,—How I look for your melodies!