Page:Poems and lyrics of the joy of earth.djvu/68

Rh With the issue Earth cannot refuse When men to their labour are sworn. 'Twas a song of the God of the Muse
 * To the forehead of Morn.

Him loved she. Lo, now was he veiled Over sea stood a swelled cloud-rack: The fishing-boat havenward sailed, Bent abeam, with a whitened track, Surprised, fast hauling the net As it flew: sea dashed, earth shook. She said: Is it night? O not yet! With a travail of thoughts in her look. The mountain heaved up to its peak: Sea darkened: earth gathered her fowl: Of bird or of branch rose the shriek. Night? but never so fell a scowl