In the pain, in the loneliness of love,
To the heart of my sweet I fled.
I knocked at the door of her living heart,
“Let in—let in—” I said.
“What seek you here?” the voices cried,
“You seeker among the dead”—
“Herself I seek, herself I seek,
Let in—let in!” I said.
They opened the door of her living heart,
But the core thereof was dead.
They opened the core of her living heart—
A worm at the core there fed.
“Where is my sweet, where is my sweet?”
“She is gone away, she is fled.
Long years ago she fled away,
She will never return,” they said.
John Hall Wheelock, 1886-1978