(Written after reading the story of that name in 'A Diversity of Creatures' by Kipling.)
OUT to the wharf where the long ship lay with her beak to the open sea,
He went by the way of the merchantmen that trade to the ports of Spain;
Clamouring folk beside him ran with sorrowing voice or wailing plea:
"Hero—Pride of the Roman State! Turn again at the Harbour-Gate,
Back and away from Tyrian hate with us to Rome again."
Out on the wharf he walked from those—that wailed and wept to see him go;
And hand in his she walked with him—her royal head on high.
And the crowd was still as she turned and spoke—her hand in his and her eyes aglow:
"Here where the tide and Tiber foam, I turn from you to an empty home.