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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.