Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/350

 No intense Joy to be, In the sense Of the sea—

In the pulses Of her shocks It repulses, When its rocks

Thrill and ring As with glee? Has my king Cast off me,

Whom no bird Flying south Brings one word From his mouth?

Not the ghost Of a word Riding post Have I heard,

Since the day When my king Took away With him spring,