From " The Later Wooing "
NOW the day is growing old
And the shadows pace
Slower now, and now more cold
O'er the water's face.
When my heart is ebbing low
With the ebbing tide,
When the happy visions go,
Why should life abide ?
Now with whispers from the sea
The little winds go by
Moaning, moaning hopelessly
That the day should die.
When the hours of memory fill
All my heart with pain.
When my dreams go down the hill
Why should life remain ?
Now the world is burning out
Mountain, glen and sea.
From their barrows all about
The dead are calling me.
When my hope is flown and dead
With my love of you.
When the heart of life is fled,
Shall not life go too ?
1914