In the eyes and lips of dawn that draw the sun

To hear what first child's word with glimmering breath

Their weak wan weanling child the twilight saith;

But night makes answer none.

God, if thou be God,—bird, if bird thou be,—

Do thou then answer me.

For but one word, what wind soever blow,

Is blown up usward ever from the sea.

In fruitless years of youth dead long ago

And deep beneath their own dead leaves and snow

Buried, I heard with bitter heart and sere

The same sea's word unchangeable, nor knew

But that mine own life-days were changeless too

And sharp and salt with unshed tear on tear

And cold and fierce and barren; and my soul,

Sickening, swam weakly with bated breath

In a deep sea like death,

[Pg 314]

And felt the wind buffet her face with brine

Hard, and harsh thought on thought in long bleak roll

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