Iv

This hateful desert land Is pent by a great sea That booms upon the strand For ever. Salt the sea

And salt the shore; the thorn And cactus stand and gaze Upon these waves; new-born The young grass ends her days;

Straightly the beach is lined. I wander to the shore. The sunset dies behind, The full moon springs before.

Of these great Deeps that link The land I love with this, I wander to the brink, I watch the waters kiss

This lonely shore. O Waves, O Winds and Waters, where My country? Sing, O Waves, And tell me of it here.

O Night? O Moon that comest, A sad face fronting mine? O dusking Deep that boomest, What tidings of it thine?