A REMINISCENCE OF RAXTOX CLIFFS

The mightiest Titan's stroke could not withstand
An ebbing tide like this. These swirls denote
How wind and tide conspire. I can but float
To the open sea and strike no more for land.
Farewell, brown cliffs, farewell, beloved sand
Her feet have pressed--farewell, dear little boat
Where Gelert,[Footnote] calmly sitting on my coat,
Unconscious of my peril, gazes bland!

All dangers grip me save the deadliest, fear:
Yet these air-pictures of the past that glide--
These death-mirages o'er the heaving tide--
Showing two lovers in an alcove clear,
Will break my heart. I see them and I hear
As there they sit at morning, side by side.

[Footnote: A famous swimming dog.]


THE VISION

_With Barton elms behind--in front the sea,
Sitting in rosy light in that alcove,
They hear the first lark rise o'er Raxton Grove:
'What should I do with fame, dear heart?' says he,
'You talk of fame, poetic fame, to me
Whose crown is not of laurel but of love--
To me who would not give this little glove