O you and I who have watched the sky
And sea from many a shore!
You, love, and I who will live and die—
And watch the sea no more!
O joy of the world! Joy of love,
Joy that can say to death,
"Tho you end all with your wanton pall,
We two have had this breath!"
IV
AT THE EBB-HOUR
As I hear, thro the midnight sighing,
The low ebb-tide withdrawn,
And gulls on the dark cliff crying
For far discernless dawn,
It seems that all life is lying
Within your every breath,
Yet I can not believe in dying,
Or death.
As I hear, from the gray church tower,
The bell's unfailing sound
Peal forth hour after hour
To night's lone reaches round,
It seems as if Time's wan power
Would sear all things apace—
All, save in my heart one flower,
Your face.
V
IN A DARK HOUR
You are not with me—only the moon,
The sea and the gulls' cry, out of tune;
The myriad cry of the gulls still strewn
On the sands where the tide will enter soon.
You are not with me, only the breath
Of the wind—and then the wind's death.
A shrouding silence then that saith,
"Even as wind love vanisheth."
You are not with me—only fear,
As old as earth's first frenzied bier
That severed two whose hearts were near,
And left one with all Life unclear.