WIND and wave and the swinging rope Were calling me last night; None to save and little hope, No inner light. Each snarling lash of the stormy sea Curled like a hungry tongue. One desperate splash -- and no use to me The noose that swung! Death reached out three crooked claws To still my clamoring pain. I wheeled about, and Life's gray jaws Grinned once again. To sea I gazed, and then I turned Stricken toward the shore, Praying half-crazed to a moon that burned Above your door. And at your door, you discovered me; And at your heart, I sobbed . . . And if there be more of eternity Let me be robbed. Let me be clipped of that heritage And burned for ages through; Freed and stripped of my fear and rage -- But not of you. |