The seven times

The dark was thick. A boy he seemed at that time
&nbsp Who trotted by me with uncertain air;
“I’ll tell my tale,” he murmured, “for I fancy
&nbsp A friend goes there? . . . ”

Then thus he told. “I reached - ’twas for the first time -
&nbsp A dwelling. Life was clogged in me with care;
I thought not I should meet an eyesome maiden,
&nbsp But found one there.

“I entered on the precincts for the second time -
&nbsp ’Twas an adventure fit and fresh and fair -
I slackened in my footsteps at the porchway,
&nbsp And found her there.

“I rose and travelled thither for the third time,
&nbsp The hope-hues growing gayer and yet gayer
As I hastened round the boscage of the outskirts,
&nbsp And found her there.

“I journeyed to the place again the fourth time
&nbsp (The best and rarest visit of the rare,
As it seemed to me, engrossed about these goings),
&nbsp And found her there.

“When I bent me to my pilgrimage the fifth time
&nbsp (Soft-thinking as I journeyed I would dare
A certain word at token of good auspice),
&nbsp I found her there.

“That landscape did I traverse for the sixth time,
&nbsp And dreamed on what we purposed to prepare;
I reached a tryst before my journey’s end came,
&nbsp And found her there.

“I went again - long after - aye, the seventh time;
&nbsp The look of things was sinister and bare
As I caught no customed signal, heard no voice call,
&nbsp Nor found her there.

“And now I gad the globe - day, night, and any time,
&nbsp To light upon her hiding unaware,
And, maybe, I shall nigh me to some nymph-niche,
&nbsp And find her there!”

“ But how,” said I, “has your so little lifetime
&nbsp Given roomage for such loving, loss, despair?
A boy so young!” Forthwith I turned my lantern
&nbsp Upon him there.

His head was white. His small form, fine aforetime,
&nbsp Was shrunken with old age and battering wear,
An eighty-years long plodder saw I pacing
&nbsp Beside me there.