Xxiii

How like a cloud she fled, thy fateful bark, From eyes that watched to hearts that waited, till Up from the ocean roared the tempest dark-- And the wild heart love waited for was still! Hither and thither in the slow, soft tide, Rolled seaward, shoreward, sands and wandering shells And shifting weeds thy fellows, thou didst hide Remote from all farewells, Nor felt the sun, nor heard the fleeting rain, Nor heeded Casa Magni’s quenchless pain.