Who never wanted, ― maddest joyRemains to him unknown ;The banquet of abstemiousnessSurpasses that of wine.Within its hope, though yet ungraspedDesire's perfect goal,No nearer, lest realityShould disenthrall thy soul.

Undue significance a starving man attaches to foodFar off ; he sighs, and therefore hopeless,And therefore good.Partaken, it relieves indeed, but proves usThat spices flyIn the receipt. It was the distanceWas savory.

Wild Nights—Wild Nights!Were I with theeWild Nights should beOur luxury!Futile—the winds—To a heart in port—Done with the compass—Done with the chart!Rowing in Eden—Ah, the sea!Might I but moor— Tonight—In thee!

For each ecstatic instantWe must an anguish payIn keen and quivering ratioTo the ecstasy.For each beloved hourSharp pittances of years,Bitter contested farthingsAnd coffers heaped with tears.

My worthiness is all my doubt,His merit all my fear,Contrasting which, my qualitiesDo lowlier appear ;Lest I should insufficient proveFor his beloved need,The chiefest apprehensionWithin my loving creed.So I, the undivine abodeOf his elect content,Conform my soul as 't were a churchUnto her sacrament.

Forbidden fruit a flavor hasThat lawful orchards mocks ;How luscious lies the pea withinThe pod that Duty locks !

Few get enough, ― enough is one ;To that ethereal throngHave not each one of us the rightTo stealthily belong ?