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XCV


Hark, where Poseidon's
  1
White racing horses
Trample with tumult
The shelving seaboard!

Older than Saturn,
  5
Older than Rhea,
That mournful music,
Falling and surging

With the vast rhythm
  9
Ceaseless, eternal,
Keeps the long tally
Of all things mortal.

How many lovers
  13
Hath not its lulling
Cradled to slumber
With the ripe flowers,

Ere for our pleasure
  17
This golden summer
Walked through the corn-lands
In gracious splendour!

How many loved ones
  21
Will it not croon to,
In the long spring days
Through coming ages,

When all our day-dreams
  25
Have been forgotten,
And none remembers
Even thy beauty!

They too shall slumber
  29
In quiet places,
And mighty sea-sounds
Call them unheeded.







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