Page:Poems and ballads, third series (IA poemsballadsthir00swin).pdf/139

 I, now long since thy guest of many days, Who found thy hearth a brother's, and with thee Tracked in and out the lines of rolling bays And banks and gulfs and reaches of the sea—

Deep dens wherein the wrestling water sobs And pants with restless pain of refluent breath Till all the sunless hollow sounds and throbs With ebb and flow of eddies dark as death—

I know not what more glorious world, what waves More bright with life,—if brighter aught may live Than those that filled and fled their tidal caves— May now give back the love thou hast to give.

Tintagel, and the long Trebarwith sand, Lone Camelford, and Boscastle divine With dower of southern blossom, bright and bland Above the roar of granite-baffled brine,