Page:Astrophel and other poems (IA astrophelotherpo00swiniala).pdf/234

 That word went up through the mirk mid sky, And even to God's own ear: And the Lord was ware of the keen twin cry, And wroth was he to hear.

He's tane the soul of the unsained child That fled to death from birth; He's tane the light of the wan sea wild, And bid it burn on earth.

He's given the ghaist of the babe new-born The gift of the water-sprite, To ride on revel from morn to morn And roll from night to night.

He's given the sprite of the wild wan sea The gift of the new-born man, A soul for ever to bide and be When the years have filled their span.