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.
