ONCE MORE
I
“Far out where waves are breaking,
Where never song-bird sings,
My soul would fly, forsaking
All flowers and inland things.
I am weary of the bowers
Where summer's heart is won;
I am weary of the flowers;
I am weary of the sun:
Where only star-rays sunder
The darkness, I would be;
At rest, while wild waves thunder
The anthems of the sea.”
II
Ah! so my soul went crying—
And yet Love lured me back:
I heard the soft winds sighing
Again round summer's track.
Once more the old earth drew me,
Though in my soul was scorn;
Again love's dart thrilled through me
For love again was born.
Once more the summer's splendour
Descending from above
In woman's eyes grew tender,
On woman's lips was love.
1889.
