Page:A midsummer holiday and other poems (IA midsummerholiday00swin).pdf/119

 The dust of ways where men suspire Seems even the dust of death's dim lair. But though the feverish days be dire The sea-wind rears and cheers its fair Blithe broods of babes that here and there Make the sands laugh and glow for glee With gladder flowers than gardens wear. Life yearns for solace toward the sea.

The music dies not off the lyre That lets no soul alive despair. Sleep strikes not dumb the breathless choir Of waves whose note bids sorrow spare. As glad they sound, as fast they fare, As when fate's word first set them free And gave them light and night to wear. Life yearns for solace toward the sea.