Page:The green helmet and other poems.pdf/64

 You are waiting for some message to bring you to war or love In that old secret country beyond the wool-white waves, Or it may be down beneath them in foam-bewildered caves Where nine forsaken sea queens fling shuttles to and fro; But beyond them, or beneath them, whether you will or no, I am going too.

Better tell it all out to the end; He was born to luck in the cradle, his good luck may amend The bad luck we were born to.