II
What seekest thou far in the unknown land?In hope I follow joy gone on before,In hope and fear persistent more and more,As the dry desert lengthens out its sand.Whilst day and night I carry in my handThe golden key to ope the golden door 20Of golden home; yet mine eye weepeth soreFor the long journey that must make no stand.And who is this that veiled doth walk with thee?Lo, this is Love that walketh at my right;One exile holds us both, and we are boundTo selfsame home-joys in the land of light.Weeping thou walkest with him; weepeth he?—Some sobbing weep, some weep and make no sound.