And stormy songs from off the sea!
There’s blood in my heart, where tears had been,[[1]]
And the blood of Youth is bold and free!
Leave, weary Soul, the hermit-lore
Which kept this arm from the Life of Earth—
Lie down to rest on the quiet shore,
While the dust, exulting, marches forth!
Thou hast wasted weak and pale, oh frame,
That once wert ruddy as the dawn!
But the Earth, thy mother, is filled with flame,