 | Wild honey from various thyme |  |
161
THE HALCYON
O Love, o bitter, mortal journeyingBy ways that are not told!
I would not sing, no song is sweet to me
Now thou art gone:
But would, ah, would I were the halcyon,
That sky-blue bird of spring,
So should I bring
Fair sister companies of fleetest wing
To bear thee on,
Thou being old,
With an untroubled heart to carry thee
Safe o'er the ridges of the wearying sea.
| Wild honey from various thyme | |