PRIDE.
17
PRIDE.
FAR up the skies, on a golden throne,
She sits in her regal pride;
And far—far down in a night of moan,
By a surfless sea, with my thoughts, alone,
I watch by the bitter tide.
She sits in her regal pride;
And far—far down in a night of moan,
By a surfless sea, with my thoughts, alone,
I watch by the bitter tide.
But the dim infinities which lie
Betwixt her love and me,
Not even my love, which could never die,
Shall overcome; so I'll laugh and cry,
"So ho!" as I drink of the sea.
Betwixt her love and me,
Not even my love, which could never die,
Shall overcome; so I'll laugh and cry,
"So ho!" as I drink of the sea.
