Nodding so gently with your little head—
All the old wonder of your eyes is dead,
And the sea-winds have chilled you long ago!
LEGEND
Where are you hid from me, belovèd one
That I am seeking through the lonely world—
A wanderer, on my way home to you?
Dark is the night and perilous the road:
At many a breast in longing have I leaned,