Heard and not heard him; as the village girl,
Who sets her pitcher underneath the spring,
Musing on him that used to fill it for her,
Hears and not hears, and lets it overflow.
At length she spoke ‘O Enoch, you are wise; 210
And yet for all your wisdom well know I
That I shall look upon your face no more.’
‘Well then,’ said Enoch, ‘I shall look on yours.
Annie, the ship I sail in passes here
(He named the day) get you a seaman’s glass, 215