As a bird’s quick song runs round, and the hearts in us hear
Pause answer to pause, and again the same strain caught,
So moves the device whence, round as a pearl or tear,
A roundel is wrought.
AT SEA.
‘Farewell and adieu’ was the burden prevailing
Long since in the chant of a home-faring crew;
And the heart in us echoes, with laughing or wailing,
Farewell and adieu.
Each year that we live shall we sing it anew,
With a water untravelled before us for sailing
And a water behind us that wrecks may bestrew.
The stars of the past and the beacons are paling,
The heavens and the waters are hoarier of hue:
But the heart in us chants not an all unavailing
Farewell and adieu.
WASTED LOVE.
What shall be done for sorrow
With love whose race is run?
Where help is none to borrow,
What shall be done?
In vain his hands have spun
The web, or drawn the furrow:
No rest their toil hath won.
His task is all gone thorough,
And fruit thereof is none:
And who dare say to-morrow
What shall be done?