Low Tide on Grand Pré: A Book of Lyrics

by Bliss Carman


 

WHITHER


 

What shall we do, dearie,
    Dreaming such dreams?
Will they come true, dearie?
    Never, it seems.

Leave the wise thrush alone;

5
    He knows such things.
How rich the silences
    Fall when he sings!

When shall we come, dearie,
    Into that land

10
Once was our home, dearie,
    Perfect as planned?

When the wind calling us,
    Some summer day,
Into the long ago

15
    Lures us away.

Where shall we go, dearie,
    Wandering thus?
Far to and fro, dearie,
    Life leads for us.

20

Thou with the morrow’s sun
    Hillward and free,
I to the vast and hoar
    Lone of the sea.
 

1886 - 1893