  Times more than once, all ways about the world, Have I clasped hands; waved sorrowful good-bye; Watched far cliffs fading, till my sea-wake swirled To mingle bluely with a landless sky: Then—even as the sea-drowned cliffs behind— Felt sorrow drowning into memory; And heard, in every thrill of every wind, New voices welcoming across the sea. Until it seemed nor land nor love had power To hold my heart in any firm duress: Grieving, I sorrowed but a little hour; Loving, I knew desire’s sure faithfulness: Until, by many a love dissatisfied, Of each mistrustful and to each untrue, I found—as one who, having long denied, Finds faith at last—this greater Love, in you. Parting? We are not parted, woman mine! Though hands have clasped, though lips have kissed good-bye; Though towns glide past, and fields, and fields of brine— My body takes the warrior-way, not I. I am still with you; you, with me; one heart; One equal union, soul to certain soul: Time cannot sever us, nor sorrow part, Nor any sea, who keep our vision whole. How can I grieve, who know your spirit near; Who watch with newly understanding eyes This England of your giving, newly dear, Sink where my sea-wake swirls to darkling skies? Lilac, her cliffs have faded into mist.... Yet still I hold them white in memory, Feeling, against these lips your lips have kissed, The home-wind thrilling down an English sea. |
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