She girds me in my sailor’s coat
And starts me in the dark.
At night I go on board and say
Good-night to all my friends on shore;
I shut my eyes and sail away
And see and hear no more.
And sometimes things to bed I take,
As prudent sailors have to do;
Perhaps a slice of wedding-cake,
Perhaps a toy or two.
All night across the dark we steer;
But when the day returns at last,
Safe in my room beside the pier,
I find my vessel fast.
In the first hours, about the matin song,And when the sun uprises in his strength,To the fringed margin of the wood, and sees,Gazing afar before him, many a mileOf falling country, many fields and trees,And cities and bright streams and far-off Ocean’s smile:I, O Melampus, halting, stand at gaze:I, liberated, look abroad on life,Love, and…
Do slumber wholly; nor shall know at allThe weariness of changes; nor perceiveImmeasurable sands of centuriesDrink of the blanching ink, or the loud soundOf generations beat the music down.
Dead and gone;Hear me, O loved and cherished one,Give me still the hand that led,Led me on.
Has moved a something highIn my cold heart; and I,That do not often pray,Would pray to-night.And first on Thee I callFor bread, O God of might!Enough of bread for all, –That through the famished townCold hunger may lie downWith none to-night.I pray for hope no less,Strong-sinewed hope, O Lord,That to the struggling youngMay preach with…
Still round the earth his way he takes,And morning after morning makes.While here at home, in shining day,We round the sunny garden play,Each little Indian sleepy-headIs being kissed and put to bed.And when at eve I rise from tea,Day dawns beyond the Atlantic Sea;And all the children in the westAre getting up and being dressed.
In a stream of sun and odour,That sultry summer day.The tall trees stood in the sunlightAs still as still could be,But the deep grass sighed and rustledAnd bowed and beckoned me.The deep grass moved and whisperedAnd bowed and brushed my face.It whispered in the sunshine:‘The winter comes apace.’
