A Spring Harvest/A Fragment

by Geoffrey Bache Smith

For works with similar titles, see A Fragment.

A FRAGMENT

.....And some came down in a great wind  Under grey scurrying skies To where the long wave-beaten shore  For ever shrieks and cries.

O, fling aside your toil, your care,  When one cries of the sea, And the great waves that foam and toss,  And the white clouds that flee:Let us forget our weariness,  Forget that we have sinned, So we but sail, what matters it  If Death ride on the wind?

Storm from the sky, storm from the sea  Beat on them as they stood, And a great longing sprang in them  To cross the roaring flood. . . .