“Lose and love” is love’s first art;
So it was with thee and me,
For I first beheld thy heart
On the night I last saw thee. 
Pine-woods and mysteries! 
Sea-sands and sorrows! 
Hearts fluttered by a breeze
That bodes dark morrows, morrows,—­
Bodes dark morrows!

Moonlight in sweet overflow
Poured upon the earth and sea! 
Lovelight with intenser glow
In the deeps of thee and me! 
Clasped hands and silences! 
Hearts faint and throbbing! 
The weak wind sighing in the trees! 
The strong surf sobbing, sobbing,—­
The strong surf sobbing!

A HILL SONG.

Hills where once my love and I
Let the hours go laughing by! 
All your woods and dales are sad,—­
You have lost your Oread. 
Falling leaves!  Silent woodlands! 
Half your loveliness is fled. 
Golden-rod, wither now! 
Winter winds, come hither now! 
All the summer joy is dead.

There’s a sense of something gone
In the grass I linger on. 
There’s an under-voice that grieves
In the rustling of the leaves. 
Pine-clad peaks!  Rushing waters! 
Glens where we were once so glad! 
There’s a light passed from you,
There’s a joy outcast from you,—­
You have lost your Oread.

AT SEA.

As a brave man faces the foe,
Alone against hundreds, and sees Death grin in his teeth,
But, shutting his lips, fights on to the end
Without speech, without hope, without flinching,—­
So, silently, grimly, the steamer
Lurches ahead through the night.

A beacon-light far off,
Twinkling across the waves like a star! 
But no star in the dark overhead! 
The splash of waters at the prow, and the evil light
Of the death-fires flitting like will-o’-the-wisps beneath!  And beyond
Silence and night!

I sit by the taffrail,
Alone in the dark and the blown cold mist and the spray,
Feeling myself swept on irresistibly,
Sunk in the night and the sea, and made one with their footfall-less onrush,
Letting myself be borne like a spar adrift
Helplessly into the night.

Without fear, without wish,
Insensate save of a dull, crushed ache in my heart,
Careless whither the steamer is going,
Conscious only as in a dream of the wet and the dark
And of a form that looms and fades indistinctly
Everywhere out of the night.

O love, how came I here? 
Shall I wake at thy side and smile at my dream? 
The dream that grips me so hard that I cannot wake nor stir! 
O love!  O my own love, found but to be lost! 
My soul sends over the waters a wild inarticulate cry,
Like a gull’s scream heard in the night.

The mist creeps closer.  The beacon
Vanishes astern.  The sea’s monotonous noises
Lapse through the drizzle with a listless, subsiding cadence. 
And thou, O love, and the sea throb on in my brain together,
While the steamer plunges along,
Butting its way through the night.