Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/241

 The old song sounds hollower in mine ear Than thin keen sounds of dead men’s speech— A noise one hears and would not hear; Too strong to die, too weak to reach From wave to beach.

We stand on either side the sea, Stretch hands, blow kisses, laugh and lean I toward you, you toward me; But what hears either save the keen Grey sea between?

A year divides us, love from love, Though you love now, though I loved then. The gulf is strait, but deep enough; Who shall recross, who among men Shall cross again?

Love was a jest last year, you said, And what lives surely, surely dies. Even so; but now that love is dead, Shall love rekindle from wet eyes, From subtle sighs?

For many loves are good to see; Mutable loves, and loves perverse; But there is nothing, nor shall be, So sweet, so wicked, but my verse Can dream of worse.