Page:Poems and ballads, third series (IA poemsballadsthir00swin).pdf/28

 She, first to love the light, and daughter Incarnate of the northern dawn, She, round whose feet the wild waves fawn When all their wrath of warring water Sounds like a babe's breath drawn,

How should not she best know, love best, And best of all souls understand The very soul of freedom, scanned Far off, sought out in darkling quest By men at heart unmanned?

They climb and fall, ensnared, enshrouded, By mists of words and toils they set To take themselves, till fierce regret Grows mad with shame, and all their clouded Red skies hang sunless yet.