Alone

Alone, O Love, I seek the blossoming glades,

The bright, accustomed alleys of delight,

Pomegranate-gardens of the mellowing dawn,

Serene and sumptuous orchards of the night.

Alone, O Love, I breast the shimmering waves,

The changing tides of life's familiar streams,

Wide seas of hope, swift rivers of desire,

The moon-enchanted estuary of dreams.

But no compassionate wind or comforting star

Brings me sweet word of thine abiding place . . .

In what predestined hour of joy or tears

Shall I attain the sanctuary of thy face?