Blown from the shore, borne far a-sea,
I lifted my two hands on high
With wild soul plashing to the sky,
And cried, "O more than crowns to me,
Farewell at last to love and thee!"

I walked the deck, I kissed my hand
Back to the far and fading shore,
And bent a knee as to implore,
Until the last dark head of land
Slid down behind the dimpled sea.
At last I sank in troubled sleep,
A very child, rocked by the deep,
Sad questioning the fate of her
Before the savage conqueror.

The loss of comrades, power, place, A city walled, cool shaded ways, Cost me no care at all; somehow I only saw her sad brown face, And I was younger then than now.

Red flashed the sun across the deck, Slow flapped the idle sails, and slow The black ship cradled to and fro. Afar my city lay, a speck

Of white against a line of blue;
Around, half lounging on the deck,
Some comrades chatted two by two.
I held a new-filled glass of wine,
And with the mate talked as in play
Of fierce events of yesterday,

To coax his light life into mine.

He jerked the wheel, as slow he said,
Low laughing with averted head,

And so, half sad: "You bet they'll fight;
They followed in canim, canoe,

A perfect fleet, that on the blue

Lay dancing till the mid of night.
Would you believe! one little cuss

(He turned his stout head slow sidewise,
And 'neath his hat-rim took the skies)-
In petticoats did follow us

The livelong night, and at the dawn
Her boat lay rocking in the lee,
Scarce one short pistol-shot from me.”
This said the mate, half mournfully,
Then pecked at us; for he had drawn,
By bright light heart and homely wit,
A knot of us around the wheel,
Which he stood whirling like a reel,
For the still ship recked not of it.

"And where's she now?" one careless said,

With eyes slow lifting to the brine,

Swift swept the instant far by mine;

The bronzed mate listed, shook his head,
Spirted a stream of amber wide
Across and over the ship side,
Jerked at the wheel and slow replied:

"She had a dagger in her hand, She rose, she raised it, tried to stand, But fell, and so upset herself:

Yet still the poor brown savage elf,

Each time the long light wave would toss
And lift her form from out the sea,

Would shake a strange bright blade at me,
With rich hilt chased a cunning cross.
At last she sank, but still the same
She shook the dagger in the air,
As if to still defy and dare,

And sinking seemed to call your name."

I dashed my wine against the wall,
I rushed across the deck, and all
The sea I swept and swept again,
With lifted hand, with eye and glass,
But all was idle and in vain.

I saw a red-billed sea-gull pass,
A petrel sweeping round and round,
I heard the far white sea-surf sound,
But no sign could I hear or see

Of one so more than seas to me.

I cursed the ship, the shore, the sea, The brave brown mate, the bearded men; I had a fever then, and then

Ship, shore, and sea were one to me;
And weeks we on the dead waves lay,
And I more truly dead than they.
At last some rested on an isle;
The few strong-breasted with a smile.
Returning to the sunny shore,
Scarce counting of the pain or cost,
Scarce recking if they won or lost;

They sought but action, asked no more;
They counted life but as a game,
With full per cent against them, and
Staked all upon a single hand,
And lost or won, content the same.

I never saw my chief again,
I never sought again the shore,
Or saw my white-walled city more.
I could not bear the more than pain
At sight of blossomed orange trees
Or blended song of birds and bees,
The sweeping shadows of the palm
Or spicy breath of bay and balm.
And striving to forget the while,
I wandered through the dreary isle.
Here black with juniper, and there
Made white with goats in summer coats,
The only things that anywhere

We found with life in all the land,
Save birds that ran long-billed and brown,
Long-legged and still as shadows are,
Like dancing shadows, up and down
The sea-rim on the swelt'ring sand.

The warm sea laid his dimpled face, With every white hair smoothed in place, As if asleep against the land;

Great turtles slept upon his breast,

As thick as eggs in any nest;

I could have touched them with my hand.

I would some things were dead and hid, Well dead and buried deep as hell, With recollection dead as well,

And resurrection God-forbid.

They irk me with their weary spell

Of fascination, eye to eye,
And hot mesmeric serpent hiss,

Through all the dull eternal days.
Let them turn by, go on their ways,
Let them depart or let me die;
For life is but a beggar's lie,
And as for death, I grin at it;
I do not care one whiff or whit
Whether it be or that or this.

I give my hand; the world is wide;
Then farewell memories of yore,
Between us let strife be no more;
Turn as you choose to either side;
Say, Fare-you-well, shake hands and say—
Speak loud, and say with stately grace,
Hand clutching hand, face bent to face-
Farewell for ever and a day.

O passion-tossed and bleeding past, Part now, part well, part wide apart, As ever ships on ocean slid

Down, down the sea, hull, sail, and mast;

And in the album of my heart

Let hide the pictures of your face,

With other pictures in their place,
Slid over like a coffin's lid.

The days and grass grow long together; They now fell short and crisp again, And all the fair face of the main Grew dark and wrinkled at the weather. Through all the summer sun's decline Fell news of triumphs and defeats, Of hard advances, hot retreatsThen days and days and not a line.