My feet are grey with the roadside dust,
    My hair is wet with the dew,
My heart is flagging with weariness
    And faint with the want of you.

You are as young as the breaking buds,
    You are as old as the sea;
My soul burns white in the flame of you—
    Love, open your door to me!…

I sought my love in the noontide heat,
    I sought in the bitter wind,
And found her house—and the doors were shut,
    And the windows were barred and blind.