What message have You left for me, what token
Of Your lone love, whose laboring Will has wrought
The firmament over my head, and spoken
Unto my nothingness Your starry Thought!
Sorrowful is the mighty Heart that reaches
Around this brief and scornful heart of mine—
The dim curve of the melancholy beaches,
And vacancies along the lone sea-line.
In the huge longing of the far sea-spaces,
The tremulous rim about the waters curled,