It flowed away, the unstable stuff, to whom a cause was but a noun.
They stood to sea. Thank heaven 'twas rough! My place was here with my renown.
They vanished ... home ... to Sunflower-tress ... home, where a man may die obscure!
Far off a carle of Albemarle trolled chanties like a Siren's lure.
East, are you calling still,
Who tried your strength of will
For naught on brown Ulysses long ago?
We have an island too,
And haul away from you
To cleaner kin that bend a stronger bow.