The Market Place

Just as dry summers pant for the first rain, So thou art thirsty for a happy home And for a life remote, like hermit's prayer, A corner of forgetting and of love.

And thirsty for the ship upon the sea That ever onward sails with birds and sea-things, Filling its life with our great planet's light. But unto thee both ship and home said: "No!

"Look neither for the happiness remote That never moves, nor for the life that ever finds In each new land and harbor a new soul!

"Only the panting of a toiling slave For thee! Drag in the market place thy body's Nakedness, strange to the strangers and thine own!"

1896.