Page:Poems and ballads, third series (IA poemsballadsthir00swin).pdf/28

xxi.

She, first to love the light, and daughter

Incarnate of the northern dawn,
She, round whose feet the wild waves fawn
When all their wrath of warring water
Sounds like a babe's breath drawn,

xxii.

How should not she best know, love best,

And best of all souls understand
The very soul of freedom, scanned
Far off, sought out in darkling quest
By men at heart unmanned?

xxiii.

They climb and fall, ensnared, enshrouded,

By mists of words and toils they set
To take themselves, till fierce regret
Grows mad with shame, and all their clouded
Red skies hang sunless yet.