Oh, Traveller By Unaccustomed Ways

Oh, traveller by unaccustomed ways —
Searcher among new worlds for pleasures new —
Art thou content because the skies are blue,
And blithe birds thrill the air with roundelays,
And the fair fields with sunshine are ablaze?
Dost thou not find thy heart's-ease twined with rue,
And long for some dear bloom on earth that grew —
Some wild, sweet fragrance of remembered days?

I send my message to thee by the stars —
Since other messenger I may not find
Till I go forth beyond these prisoning bars,
Leaving this memory-haunted world behind,
To seek thee, claim thee, wheresoe'er thou be,
Since Heaven itself were empty, lacking thee.
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