"I hate the stone, I fear the water;
I dread the grey, the moaning sea;
I pray thee bid thy lady daughter
To fetch some wine to me.
"For coldly, coldly, runs the tide;
And all the foam is salt and strong;
And here, athirst and cramped, I bide,
And I have waited, waited long."
_Literary Monthly_, 1910.
OUT OF THE HARBOR
STANTON BUDINGTON LEEDS ex-'08
Across the breadth of many memoried years
I catch a whiff of strong, salt air
Light-hearted blowing of the gentle wind,
And all the swaying of the sad and silent sea;
On high a golden star, bright, peerless, free,
In endless space confined,--
And light as laughter 'gainst my cheek, star-lit with tears,
A wavy lock of sweet brown hair.
The star wove silver webs across the ways
Carved by the wind, a half-breathed sigh,
That spoke in ripples. "O Heart's Delight,"
I cried, "The skiff comes for me now across the water."
And, as I bent to kiss her, Love's fair daughter,
She barely breathed, "Good-night,"
And some musician blended Chopin with her phrase:
"Good-bye, Love's youth, Youth's love, good-bye.
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