Dominic Stuyt

Purpose

What is this touch of bliss untold?

This crackling flame, my star of gold?

 

Like a rare sweet flower that blooms in the night,

To shine forth its splendor in soft morning light.

 

Hunted and fought for through field and fen,

It cannot be captured, but gifted now and then.

 

My star, my flower, my conquest, I know,

Is Love, I\'ve heard. My heart told me so.