“The pathway to my heart by few Is sought, to few that pathway known, So deep a thicket round it sown, With grass and moss and weeds o’ergrown The path itself, half hid from sight. And hadst thou come with knocking light Or loud, then from my windows pain Had looked, a dreary chatelaine And bid thee from the house, unmeet So bright a guest to entertain.
But thou, with shy misgiving sweet, Upon the threshold for awhile Didst pause, and then with footstep fleet, And ready, gay, victorious smile, As one unused to plead or sue, Didst lightly cross it o’er, made bold By love, and like the Greek of old Sat down beside my hearth, and there I found thee seated, kind and fair, To all around thee giving grace, As one that takes a wonted place, Nor causeth toil, nor bringeth care.
Then stay, dear friend, and be thou free Of all my hospitality! And doubt not I for thee shall find Some leaf, some blossom, left behind, Some bloom evanishing, some tone That love and joy will not disown, Some amber rosary of fair Warm-scented beads, whereon a prayer Yet lingers, or some amulet Enshrouded in a golden fret; And from my lute a strain shall flow; And in my heart a flower will blow From out life’s very ashes kissed! To life by thee, sweet alchemist!”