Page:Astrophel and other poems (IA astrophelotherpo00swiniala).pdf/231

 As lithe snakes turning, as bright stars burning, They bicker and beckon and call; As wild waves churning, as wild winds yearning, They flicker and climb and fall.

A soft strange cry from the landward rings— 'What ails the sea to shine?' A keen sweet note from the spray's rim springs— 'What fires are these of thine?'

A soul am I that was born on earth For ae day's waesome span: Death bound me fast on the bourn of birth Ere I were christened man.

'A light by night, I fleet and fare Till the day of wrath and woe; On the hems of earth and the skirts of air Winds hurl me to and fro.'