And listened to the wave’s untiring beat,
And sang of earth, and heaven, and hell, till morning
Recalled him, hungering, to the dusty street.
Sad was the hour that scourged thy spirit homeward,
While yet her pinions were untired and strong,
From those bright fields where she had found and tasted
The honied lotus, mighty one of song.
Loneness of soul, phantasies bright and wayward,
Neglect and sorrow, longings sad and wild,
Well didst thou prove, and faithfully bequeath them,