Page:Songs of the Springtides - Swinburne (1880).pdf/54

 O wind, O wingless wind that walk'st the sea, Weak wind, wing-broken, wearier wind than we, Who are yet not spirit-broken, maimed like thee, Who wail not in our inward night as thou In the outer darkness now, What word has the old sea given thee for mine ear From thy faint lips to hear? For some word would she send me, knowing not how.

Nay, what far other word Than ever of her was spoken, or of me Or all my winged white kinsfolk of the sea Between fresh wave and wave was ever heard, Cleaves the clear dark enwinding tree with tree Too close for stars to separate and to see Enmeshed in multitudinous unity?