  OH, would, oh, would that thou and I, Now this brief day of love is past, Could toward the sunset straightway fly, And fold our wearied wings at last There, where the sea-line meets the sky. A sweet thing and a strange ’twould be Thus, thus to break our prison bars, And know that we at last were free As voiceful waves and silent stars,— There, where the sky-line meets the sea. But vain the longing! thou and I, As we have been must ever be, Yet thither, wind, oh, waft my sigh, There where the sky-line meets the sea,— There where the sea-line meets the sky. |
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