Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/1040

 And yet, O splendid ship, unhail'd and nameless, I know not if, aiming a fancy, I rightly divine That thou hast a purpose joyful, a courage blameless, Thy port assured in a happier land than mine. But for all I have given thee, beauty enough is thine, As thou, aslant with trim tackle and shrouding, From the proud nostril curve of a prow's line In the offing scatterest foam, thy white sails crowding.

836. Absence

When my love was away, Full three days were not sped, I caught my fancy astray Thinking if she were dead,

And I alone, alone: It seem'd in my misery In all the world was none Ever so lone as I.

I wept; but it did not shame Nor comfort my heart: away I rode as I might, and came To my love at close of day.

The sight of her still'd my fears, My fairest-hearted love: And yet in her eyes were tears: Which when I questioned of,

'O now thou art come,' she cried, ''Tis fled: but I thought to-day I never could here abide, If thou wert longer away.'