O hurry, the moon is away in the sky
(Child of the flowing tide)
With your heels well down, and your heart set high
You’re saddled and bridled, and so am I;
So gather your reins, for the foam will fly
Where the wild sea-horses ride.
Grip tight with your knees as you gallop the seas
On the back of the flowing tide.
On the wide lagoon I’ll meet you to-night
(Child of the flowing tide)
When the moon swings high and the stars are alight
And the roaring sea-chargers are ready to fight:
Their manes are all foam and their coats are all white
Where the wild sea-horses ride.
The deep waters shall roar as we race from the shore
On the back of the flowing tide.
EIGHT SONNETS
I
I Tremble at the outset, for I know
How rhythm halts and rhyme rings falsely true.
Yet courage, your disciple, bids me show
That speech may offer sacrifice to you.
Vain boast! For if success in splendour came
Poised faultlessly in lines of perfect stress,
I must fall short of it in very shame
Unworthy of my sonnet’s worthiness.
But should I fail, and feel the words I sought
Elusive, or bedecked with frail disguise
Of tattered sentiment, that risk I dare
Not hazard in the winding maze of thought,
Lest I should stir the wonder in your eyes
Or wind a little tangle in your hair.
II
So let me fail: what matter if the wise
And worldly whisper, who so poor as they?
For everywhere alike the common way
Has now become an earthly paradise.
And where you walk the very pavement cries
Of blue-bells, April-chimed, and fawns at play;
And London seems a sylvan holiday
Of flower-hunting bees and butterflies.