FLESH, I have knocked at many a dusty door, br Gone down full many a midnight lane, br Probed in old walls and felt along the floor, br Pressed in blind hope the lighted window-pane, br But useless all, though sometimes when the moon br Was full in heaven and the sea was full, br Along my body's alleys came a tune br Played in the tavern by the Beautiful. br Then for an instant I have felt at point br To find and seize her, whosoe'er she be, br Whether some saint whose glory doth anoint br Those whom she loves, or but a part of me, br Or something that the things not understood br Make for their uses out of flesh and blood.