thing I have sought, I have sought and have found it, And thou, friend, hast helped me and seest me made happy.

Farewell then the last time, O land of my fathers! Farewell, feeble hopes that I once held so mighty. Yet no more have I need of but this word that thou sayest, And nought have I to do but to serve thee, my master. In what land of the world shall we dwell now henceforward?

In the land where my love our returning abideth, The poor land and kingless of the shepherding people, There is peace there, and all things this land are unlike to.

Before the light waneth will I seek for a passage, Since for thee and for me the land groweth perilous:     Yea, o'er sweet smell the flowers, too familiar the folk seem, Fain I grow of the salt seas, since all things are over here.

I am fain of one hour's farewell in the twilight, To the times I lament not: times worser than these times, To the times that I blame not, that brought on times better—     Let us meet in our hostel—be brave mid thy kindness, Let thy heart say, as mine saith, that fair life awaits us.

Yea, no look in thy face is of ruin, O my master;     Thou art king yet, unchanged yet, nor is my heart changing; The world hath no chances to conquer thy glory.

Full fair were the world if such faith were remembered. If such love as thy love had its due, O my fosterer. Forgive me that giftless from me thou departest, With thy gifts in my hands left. I might not but take them; Thou wilt not begrudge me, I will not forget thee.—     —Long fall the shadows and night draws on apace now, Day sighs as she sinketh back on to her pillow, And her last waking breath is full sweet with the rose.     —In such wise depart thou, O daylight of life, Loved once for the shadows that told of the dreamtide; Loved still for the longing whereby I remember That I was lone once in the world of thy making; Lone wandering about on thy blind way's confusion, The maze of thy paths that yet led me to love. All is passed now, and passionless, faint are ye waxen, Ye hours of blind seeking full of pain clean forgotten. If it were not that e'en now her eyes I behold not. That the way lieth long to her feet that would find me, That the green seas delay yet her fair arms enfolding, That the long leagues of air will not bear the cry hither Wherewith she is crying. Come, love, for I love thee.

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