V

Where man has marred and nature yields, And never plant nor beast is free, Along the tame and trampled fields An old unrest has followed me.

Now walk alone the night and I On foaming reaches curving stark, And battling with a windy sky The stormy moon is bright and dark.

Facing the sea with streaming hair, My broken singing flung behind, Whipped by the keen exultant air Till lips must close and eyes are blind,

Loving the sharp and cruel spray, The great waves thundering, might on might, The pagan heart must shout and sway, Tossed in the passion of the night.