I am he that is thy lord till thou turn earth:

I make the night more dark, and all the morrow

Dark as the night whose darkness was my breath:

O fool, my name is sorrow;

Thou fool, my name is death.'

And he that heard spake not, and looked right on

Again, and Love was gone.

Through many a night toward many a wearier day

His spirit bore his body down its way.

Through many a day toward many a wearier night

His soul sustained his sorrows in her sight.

And earth was bitter, and heaven, and even the sea

Sorrowful even as he.

And the wind helped not, and the sun was dumb;

And with too long strong stress of grief to be

His heart grew sere and numb.

And one bright eve ere summer in autumn sank

At stardawn standing on a grey sea-bank

[Pg 305]

He felt the wind fitfully shift and heave

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