Why do they beckon me, and what have they to
show me?
Crowds in the blazing street, mirth where the
feasters meet, kisses and wine:
Many to laugh with me, but never one to know
me:
A cityful of stranger-hearts and none to beat
with mine!

Look how the glittering lines are wavering and
lifting,--
Softly the breeze of night, scatters the vision
bright: and, passing fair,
Over the meadow-grass and through the forest
drifting,
The Fire-Fly City of the Dark is lost in empty
air!

Girl of the golden eyes, to you my heart is
turning:
Sleep in your quiet room, while through the
midnight gloom my train is whirled.
Clear in your dreams of me the light of love is
burning,--
The only never failing light in all the phantom
world.

THE GENTLE TRAVELLER