Page:Preludes, Meynell, 1875.djvu/73

Rh When I, returning, should fill up once more

Thy desolated thought;

And fill thy loneliness that lies apart

In still, persistent pain.

Shall I content thee, O thou broken heart,

As the tide comes again,

And brims the little sea-shore lakes, and sets

Seaweeds afloat, and fills

The silent pools, rivers and rivulets

Among the inland hills?