The Book of the Native

by Charles G.D. Roberts


 

Ebb


 

The tide goes out, the tide goes out; once more
The empty day goes down the empty shore.

The tide goes out; the wharves deserted lie
Under the empty solitude of sky.

The tide goes our; the dwindling channels ache

5
With the old hunger, with the old heartbreak.

The tide goes out; the lonely wastes of sand
Implore the benediction of thy hand.

The tide goes out, goes out; the stranded ships
Desire the sea,—and I desire thy lips.

10

The tide goes out, the tide goes out; the sun
Relumes the hills of longing one by one.

The tide goes out, goes out; and goes my heart
On the long quest that ends but where thou art.