Page:Songs of the Springtides - Swinburne (1880).pdf/57

 And deep beneath their own dead leaves and snow Buried, I heard with bitter heart and sere The same sea's word unchangeable, nor knew But that mine own life-days were changeless too And sharp and salt with unshed tear on tear And cold and fierce and barren; and my soul, Sickening, swam weakly with bated breath In a deep sea like death, And felt the wind buffet her face with brine Hard, and harsh thought on thought in long bleak roll Blown by keen gusts of memory sad as thine Heap the weight up of pain, and break, and leave Strength scarce enough to grieve In the sick heavy spirit, unmanned with strife Of waves that beat at the tired lips of life.

Nay, sad may be man's memory, sad may be