Down in the pool where she was swept
He holds her—Oh, go not a-near!
For none has heard her cry but wept
And died that year.
HUMAN LOVE
We, spoke of God and Fate,
And of that Life—which some await—
Beyond the grave,
"It will be fair," she said,
"But love is here!
I only crave thy breast
Not God's when I am dead.
For He nor wants nor needs
My little love.
But it may be, if I love thee
And those whose sorrow daily bleeds,
He knows—and somehow heeds!"
ASHORE
What are the heaths and hills to me?
I'm a-longing for the sea!
What are the flowers that dapple the dell,
And the ripple of swallow-wings over the dusk;
What are the church and the folk who tell
Their hearts to God?—my heart is a husk!
(I'm a-longing for the sea!)
Aye! for there is no peace to me—
But on the peaceless sea!
Never a child was glad at my knee,
And the soul of a woman has never been mine.
What can a woman's kisses be?—
I fear to think how her arms would twine.
(I'm a-longing for the sea!)