The Tryst

I COME to you, blind, hunted creeping things, I come your way ; Though I had chosen sun-sweet air and wings And the blue day. Now through the clinging darkness I must creep, Dim citizens, with you my tryst to keep.

I've had my soaring time, my long, light day. Shall I complain If for a space I go a heavier way In bonds and pain ? The lords of life know neither high nor low, The heart of man by many a road must go.