Because thy winged spirit ever craves
Then must thou range wide seas and distant lands--
To see, to know, thy burning thirst demands
No sweeter drink. To kneel in sainted naves
For art sake; marvel by Egyptian graves;
Seek paynim shrines with strange fantastic bands
Or pause to weep where sad Pompeii stands,
So richly jewelled in her granite waves.
Ah! 'Tis to know, till every cup is drained,
And passion wane in pale satiety.
Then but to dare the boundless unattained,--
Thy self a world, thy thirst its history.
Ah! such a world! such wash of human waves
On human shores, where still the thirst enslaves.