Flesh, I Have Knocked At Many A Dusty Door, Gone Down Full Many A Midnight Lane, Probed In Old Walls And Felt Along The Floor, Pressed In Blind Hope The Lighted Window-Pane, But Useless All, Though Sometimes When The Moon Was Full In Heaven And The Sea Was Full, Along My Body'S Alleys Came A Tune Played In The Tavern By The Beautiful. Then For An Instant I Have Felt At Point To Find And Seize Her, Whosoe'Er She Be, Whether Some Saint Whose Glory Doth Anoint Those Whom She Loves, Or But A Part Of Me, Or Something That The Things Not Understood Make For Their Uses Out Of Flesh And Blood.