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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.