Love Absolute

Love lies not in Book, or Letter, or well reason'd Tome—O no!
Love lives not in Cell of Penance, nor in gloomy Home—O no!
From the Green of Spring eternal shoots up the Tree of Life;
Yet Milkyway and Pleiad reach not Love's Dome—O no!
Reason dismounts before her, Desire her Charioteer;
So long the Way no slower to Love's Realm would come—O no!
While thou art still a Lover, the Longing in thee moves;
But when thou art the Loved One, thou need'st not roam—O no!
Wrecked Landsmen shriek in Terror, though saving spars float round;
The Pilot steeped in rapture, recks not Death's Foam—O no!
JELÁLEDDÍN, thy soul in Ocean melts in joy:
Thyself all Consecration, no Novice far from Home—O no!