Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/234

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150

It longs to find
The tideless shore.
Where rests the wreck
Of Heretofore,—
The glorious wreck
Of mental ore;
The great heartbreak
Of loves no more.
I drift alone,
For all are gone
Dearest to me;
And hail the wave
That to the grave
On hurrieth me:
Welcome, thrice welcome, then, thy wave
Eternity!