Page:Reuben and other poems.pdf/89

 An’ the glossy karakas there, twinkling to the big blue twinkling sea: Ay, the broad blue sea beyond, an’ the gem-clear cove below, Where the boat I’ll never handle again, sits rocking to and fro: There’s the last look to it all! an’ now for the last upon This room, where Hetty was born, an’ my Mary died, an’ John. . . Well! I’m leaving the poor old place, and it cuts as keen as a knife; The place that’s broken my heart—the place where I’ve lived my life.