Page:Marlborough and other poems, Sorley, 1919.djvu/70

 He had an envy for its black

Inscrutability;

He felt impatiently the lack

Of that great law whereby

The river never travels back

But still goes gliding by;

But still goes gliding by, nor clings

To passing things that die,

Nor shows the secrets that it brings

From its strange source on high.

And he felt "We are two living things

And the weaker one is I."

He saw the town, that living stack

Piled up against the sky.

He saw the river running black

On, on and on: O, why

Could he not move along his track

With such consistency?

He had a yearning for the strength

That comes of unity:

The union of one soul at length

With its twin-soul to lie:

To be a part of one great strength

That moves and cannot die.