Page:Poems and ballads, third series (IA poemsballadsthir00swin).pdf/130



, they cry, ere yet your day Set, and the sky grow stern: Return, strayed souls, while yet ye may Return.

But heavens beyond us yearn; Yea, heights of heaven above the sway Of stars that eyes discern.

The soul whose wings from shoreward stray Makes toward her viewless bourne Though trustless faith and unfaith say, Return.