SONG

There is the track my feet have worn

By which my fate may find me:

From that dim place where I was born

Those footprints run behind me.

Uncertain was the trail I left,

For—oh, the way was stormy;

But now this splendid sea has cleft

My journey from before me.

  Three things the sea shall never end,

Three things shall mock its power:

My singing soul, my Secret Friend,

And this, my perfect hour.

And you shall seek me till you reach

The tangled tide advancing,

And you shall find upon the beach

The traces of my dancing,

And in the air the happy speech

Of Secret Friends romancing.

  THE ORCHARD

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