WITH THE TIDE
Yestreen, the hour before he died,
He groan’d, and said: “Dear lass,
Go see if the tide be like to turn
And my poor soul to pass.”
And I went. But I swore to God as I went,
That I would not let him pass.
I went down to the twilight shore,
I watch’d the full tide swell,
And I set my heart, as it rose and rose,
To hold him, ’gainst it fell.
My heart was as deep as Heaven with love,
And as hot with pain as Hell.
And, being at last in a lone place,
With nought save Him beside,
“O God! God! What’s come to Your heart
To let such ill betide?
Oh, how do You dare to make us so,
And hurt us so?” I cried.
“If it was only my three dear lads,
Drown’d in a day, again:
Or the one wee lassie You made be born
For just that month o’ pain:
Or wring my life out, drop by drop,”
I said, “and I’ll not complain—
“But him, that I’ve seen to all these years,
An’ him that’s loved me so—
God! there is that atwixt us twain
Even You can scarcely know!
Oh, he’s mine!” I cried, “and I’ll keep him mine
And I will not let him go!”
. . . The still sea and sky stood there
Against me, like a wall.
The uncolour’d sea and sky they hung
Like a straight, seamless pall.
The faint wan waves, like breaths they rose,
Like dying breaths did fall.
But, quick and strong above them, I
Heard my own heart-throbs sound,
My thoughts, ’mid that dead hush, I felt
Beating round and round.
O I felt I was the one live thing
Left, in a world aswound.
Ay, ’twixt the sleeping air and sky,
And the tide that seem’d asleep,
I mind how I stood, all stir and strain,
My man’s life for to keep—
Till, sudden, It fell! Sudden, on me
Fell the grey Quiet deep.
It was not peace, it was not pain,
Not hope and not despair.
It was myself drawn out of me,
And I set empty there.
And I heard the slow words from my mouth
Dropping, like a prayer.
The sea and sky stood firm, the waves
Kept up their plashing sound,
I seemed to wake to the life of things,
Now mine was fall’n aswound.
O, a speck, on a speck of the earth I stood—
And the whole World lay all round.
And I said: “What must be, will be,
Whether I will or no. . . .”
“There’s That in the world must take its way
Across our weal and woe.
There’s more to the World than you an’ me.”
“David! David! Go!”
A sea-snail crawl’d upon the sand,
The hard sand shining-brown,—
Years back, each ebb has drain’d it, years
To come, each flood will drown:
“There’s a need,” I said, “and a want—that’s why. . . .”
And I watch’d the tide go down. . . .
. . . Calm I went in, calm I took
His dead face to my breast.
The vacant night, the vacant day,
Have pass’d me undistress’d.
I’ve had to agree with the Will of God,
My heart’s broke, but at rest.