Page:Poems (IA poemsthomrich).pdf/47

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35

"He asks, not grudging pain;
And knows his asking vain,
And cries—
'Love! Love!' and dies;

"In guerdon of long duty,
Unowned by Love or Beauty;
And goes—
Tell, tell, who knows!

"Aliens from Heaven's worth,
Fine beasts who nose i' the earth,
Do there
Reward prepare.

"But are his great desires
Food but for nether fires?
Ah me,
A mystery!

"Can it be his alone,
To find when all is known,
That what
He solely sought

"Is lost, and thereto lost
All that its seeking cost?
That he
Must finally,