Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/234

 It longs to find The tideless shore. Where rests the wreck Of Heretofore,— The glorious wreck Of mental ore; The great heartbreak Of loves no more. I drift alone, For all are gone Dearest to me; And hail the wave That to the grave On hurrieth me: Welcome, thrice welcome, then, thy wave Eternity!