Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/92

 These, woven as raiment for his word and thought, These hath God made, and me as these, and wrought Song, and hath lit it at my lips; and me Earth shall not gather though she feed on thee. As a shed tear shalt thou be shed; but I— Lo, earth may labour, men live long and die, Years change and stars, and the high God devise New things, and old things wane before his eyes Who wields and wrecks them, being more strong than they— But, having made me, me he shall not slay. Nor slay nor satiate, like those herds of his Who laugh and live a little, and their kiss Contents them, and their loves are swift and sweet, And sure death grasps and gains them with slow feet, Love they or hate they, strive or bow their knees— And all these end; he hath his will of these. Yea, but albeit he slay me, hating me— Albeit he hide me in the deep dear sea And cover me with cool wan foam, and ease This soul of mine as any soul of these, And give me water and great sweet waves, and make The very sea's name lordlier for my sake, The whole sea sweeter—albeit I die indeed And hide myself and sleep and no man heed, Of me the high God hath not all his will. Blossom of branches, and on each high hill