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word of the sea, as a aith to the son she bore, the life in thee mine, the breath in thy lips

y weakness exult in my thy foolishness learn of

not or healed not thine ade not the might of thy e?"

heart should answer, "The ove of my life is in thee." in earth, and the sun is not ind is not blither than she : ch hath she shown me the Days that I crossed, of her clomb,

the twain of us here, in e dawn and in trust of the

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THE SUNBOWS

song that springs in April, light that laughs through May

I die and live for ever: nought chings far less fair

surer life than these that seem s like fire away.

ouls they live which are but all righter that they were; hearts that kindle, thinking what ht of old was there.

that shapes and Tifts and shifts 1 bids perpetual memory play Ireams and in and out of deeds thoughts which seem to wear

that leaps and runs and revels ough the springing flames of spray,

is wild upon the waters where we nk of dawn to-day:

The silence of instant noon goes nigh to be heard,

The viewless void to be visible: all and each,

A closure of calm no clamor of storm can breach

Concludes and confines and absorbs them on either side,

All forces of light and of life and the live world's pride.

Sands hardly ruffled of ripples that hardly roll

Seem ever to show as in reach of a swift brief stride

[goal. The goal that is not, and ever again the

The waves are a joy to the seamew, the meads to the herd,

And a joy to the heart is a goal that it may not reach.

No sense that for ever the limits of sense engird,

No hearing or sight that is vassal to form or speech,

Learns ever the secret that shadow and silence teach,

Hears ever the notes that or ever they swell subside,

Sees ever the light that lights not the loud world's tide,

Clasps ever the cause of the lifelong scheme's control

Wherethrough we pursue, till the waters of life be dried, [goal. The goal that is not, and ever again the

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Half the path is broken, half the barks divide;

Flawed and crumbled, riven and re they cleave and slide Toward the ridged and wrinkled waste of girdling sand

Deep beneath, whose furrows tell how far and wide

Wind is lord and change is sovereign of the strand.

Star by star on the unsunned water twiring down,

Golden spear-points glance against a silver shield.

Over banks and bents, across the b land's crown,

As by pulse of gradual plumes thresh twilight wheeled,'

Soft as sleep, the waking wind awa the weald.

Moor and copse and fallow, near or f1⁄2 descried,

Feel the mild wings move, and glas where they glide:

Silence uttering love that all things £ derstand,

Bids the quiet fields forget that s beside

Wind is lord and change is sovereign the strand.

Yet may sight, ere all the hoar yfi shade grow brown, Hardly reckon half the rifts and r unhealed

Where the scarred cliffs down

sundering drive and drown, Hewn as if with stroke of swerk: tempest steeled, Wielded as the night's will and wind's may wield. Crowned and zoned in vain with flow of autumn-tide, Life and love seek harborage on the l ward side;

Wind is lord and change is sovereign the strand.

Friend, though man be less than tfor all his pride,

Yet, for all his weakness, shall not ! »

abide?

Wind and change can wreck but life a

waste but land: Truth and trust are sure, though till all subside

Wind is lord and change is soverei

the strand.

IN THE WATER

THE sea is awake, and the sound of the song of the joy of her waking is rolled From afar to the star that recedes, from anear to the wastes of the wild wide shore.

Her call is a trumpet compelling us homeward if dawn in her east be acold,

From the sea shall we crave not her grace to rekindle the life that it kindled before,

Her breath to requicken, her bosom to rock us, her kisses to bless as of yore? For the wind, with his wings half open, at pause in the sky, neither fettered nor free,

Leans waveward and flutters the ripple to laughter and fain would the twain of us be

Where lightly the wave yearns forward from under the curve of the deep dawn's dome

And, full of the morning and fired with the pride of the glory thereof and the glee,

Strike out from the shore as the heart
in us bids and beseeches, athirst for
the foam.

Life holds not an hour that is better to
live in the past is a tale that is told,
The future a sun-flecked shadow, alive
and asleep, with a blessing in store.
As we give us again to the waters, the
rapture of limbs that the waters en-
fold

Is less than the rapture of spirit whereby,
though the burden it quits were sore,
Our souls and the bodies they wield at
their will are absorbed in the life they
adore-

In the life that endures no burden, and bows not the forehead, and bends not the knee

In the life everlasting of earth and of
heaven, in the laws that atone and
agree,

In the measureless music of things, in the
fervor of forces that rest or that roam,
That cross and return and reissue, as I
after you and as you after me
Strike out from the shore as the heart in
us bids and beseeches, athirst for the
foam.

To rejoice in the word of the sea, as a mother's that saith to the son she bore, "Child, was not the life in thee mine, and my spirit the breath in thy lips from of old?

For, albeit he were less than the least of them, haply the heart of a man may be bold

Have I let not thy weakness exult in my strength, and thy foolishness learn of my lore?

Have I helped not or healed not thine anguish, or made not the might of thy gladness more?

And surely his heart should answer, "The light of the love of my life is in thee." She is fairer than earth, and the sun is not

fairer, the wind is not blither than she: From my youth hath she shown me the joy of her bays that I crossed, of her cliffs that I clomb,

Till now that the twain of us here, in desire of the dawn and in trust of the sea,

Strike out from the shore as the heart in us bids and beseeches, athirst for the foam.

Friend, earth is a harbor of refuge for winter, a covert whereunder to flee When day is the vassal of night, and the strength of the hosts of her mightier than he;

But here is the presence adored of me, here my desire is at rest and at home. There are cliffs to be climbed upon land,

there are ways to be trodden and ridden but we

Strike out from the shore as the heart in us bids and beseeches, athirst for the foam. 1884.

THE SUNBOWS

SPRAY of song that springs in April, light of love that laughs through May, Live and die and live for ever: nought of all things far less fair

Keeps a surer life than these that seem
to pass like fire away.

In the souls they live which are but all
the brighter that they were
In the hearts that kindle, thinking what
delight of old was there.
Wind that shapes and Tifts and shifts
them bids perpetual memory play
Over dreams and in and out of deeds
and thoughts which seem to wear
Light that leaps and runs and revels

through the springing flames of spray,

Dawn is wild upon the waters where we drink of dawn to-day:

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