His Quest

What seek’st thou at this madman’s pace? “I seek my love’s new dwelling place: Her house is dark, her doors are wide, There bat and owl and beetle bide, And there, breast-high, the rank weeds grow, And drowsy poppies nod and blow. So mount I swift to ride me through The world to find my love anew. I have no token of the way; I haste by night, I press by day. Through busy cities I am borne, On lonely heights I watch the morn Climb up the east, and see the light Of waning moon gleam thwart my flight. Sometimes a light before me flees; I follow it, till stormy seas Break wide before, then all is dark. Sometimes on plains, wide, still, and stark, I hear a voice; I seek the sound, And ride into a hush profound. To find her dwelling I will ride Worlds through and through, whate’er betide.” To find her dwelling rode he forth, In vain rode south, in vain rode north; In vain in mountain, plain, and mart He searched, but never searched his heart.

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