Rune of the Burden of the Tide

The tide was dark an' heavy with the

burden that it bore,

I heard it talkin', whisperin', upon the weedy

shore:

Each wave that stirred the sea-weed was like

a closing door,

'Tis closing doors they hear at last who hear

no more, no more,

My Grief,

No more!

The tide was in the salt sea-weed, and like a

knife it tore,

The hoarse sea-wind went moaning, sooing,

moaning o'er and o'er,

The wild sea-heart was brooding deep upon

its ancient lore,

I heard the sob, the sooing sob, the dying

sob at its core,

My Grief,

Its core!

The white sea-waves were wan and grey its

ashy lips before;

The whirled spume between its jaws in floods

did seaward pour --

O whisperin' weed, O wild sea-waves, O

hollow baffled roar,

Since one thou hast, O dark dim Sea, why

callest thou for more,

My Grief,

For more.