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But an ebbing twilight carries my thought
   Beyond every coast it would anchor off.

Like a reef-bell rocking and ringing low,
   Under a grey and rain-swept sky,
The beauty I follow doth come and go,
   And if I found it, I should die.

The wild-bird of my longing sings
   Always in the next hollow,
And always, always it spreads its wings,
   When I cross the hill to follow.

All! Once when the burning noon was poured
   On moss and stone and dreaming sod,
I saw the great blue flower that God
   Made for the Son of God.

And do you think I can go content,
   With the beauty we meet with everywhere,
When I have breathed that flower's scent
   And seen it melt into the air?

Oh, I must follow it high and low,
   Though it leave me cold to your human touch,
Some starry sorcery made me so;
   And from my birth have I been such.