For kindly words and sighs and handkerchiefs.
Your eyes will be my stars, your arms my fate,
And I shall wait for these, although I wait
Until the ship goes shattering on reefs
Which lurk beyond horizons sailed in vain.
Then let the ocean froth, let tempests rave;
Let the straight masts bow stiffly to their grave;
Let the old love go—go—nor come again!
XV.
My lady condescends! A little note