ROBERT BRIDGES

And yet, O splendid ship, unhail'd and nameless,

I know not if, aiming a fancy, I rightly divine That thou hast a purpose joyful, a courage blameless,

Thy port assured in a happier land than mine.

But for all I have given thee, beauty enough is thine, As thou, aslant with trim tackle and shrouding,

From the proud nostril curve of a prow's line In the offing scatterest foam, thy white sails crowding.

��836. Absence

\VTHEN my love was away,

• * Full three days were not sped,

I caught my fancy astray Thinking if she were dead,

And I alone, alone: It seem'd in my misery In all the world was none Ever so lone as I.

I wept; but it did not shame Nor comfort my heart : away I rode as I might, and came To my love at close of day.

The sight of her still'd my fears, My fairest-hearted love: And yet in her eyes were tears : Which when I questioned of,

• O now thou art come,' she cried,

1 'Tis fled : but I thought to-day I never could here abide, If thou wert longer away/

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