"I tell you naught for your comfort, Yea, naught for your desire,Save that the sky grows darker yet And the sea rises higher.
"Night shall be thrice night over you, And heaven an iron cope.Do you have joy without a cause, Yea, faith without a hope?"
Even as she spoke she was not, Nor any word said he;He only heard, still as he stoodUnder the old night's nodding hood,The sea-folk breaking down the wood Like a high tide from sea.
He only heard the heathen men, Whose eyes are blue and bleak,Singing about some cruel thingDone by a great and smiling king In daylight on a deck.
He only heard the heathen men, Whose eyes are blue and blind,Singing what shameful things are doneBetween the sunlit sea and the sun When the land is left behind.
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