No, we are strangers yet,
The divine alchemy Not yet, or vainly, has set Our longing currents free.
We meet, what loving foes.
Who vainly would combine Cross virtues, that dispose The draught to be divine.
Waiting we know not what,
Lonely, and side by side,
Desiring only not To part, yet not to abide,
We linger, each aware Of that which both have missed,
And pitying the despair Of the proud alchemist.
