A Spring Harvest/A Fragment

by Geoffrey Bache Smith

For works with similar titles, see A Fragment.

A FRAGMENT

.....
And some came down in a great wind
 Under grey scurrying skies
To where the long wave-beaten shore
 For ever shrieks and cries.

O, fling aside your toil, your care,
 When one cries of the sea,
And the great waves that foam and toss,
 And the white clouds that flee:
Let us forget our weariness,
 Forget that we have sinned,
So we but sail, what matters it
 If Death ride on the wind?

Storm from the sky, storm from the sea
 Beat on them as they stood,
And a great longing sprang in them
 To cross the roaring flood. . . .