At eventide the Pilgrim came
   And knocked at the Belovéd’s door.
“Whose there!” a voice within, “Thy name?”
   “ ’T is I,” he said.—“Then knock no more.
As well ask thou a lodging of the sea,—
There is no room herein for thee and me.”

The Pilgrim went again his way
   And dwelt with Love upon the shore 
Of self-oblivion; and one day
   He knocked again at the Belovéd’s door.
   “Whose there?”—“It is thyself,” he now replied,
And suddenly the door was opened wide.

From A Chant of Mystics (James T. White & Co., 1921) by Ameen Rihani. This poem is in the public domain.