Page:Poems Clark.djvu/25

"Then yonder must I speed,
The bleacher in his need
 Is asking help of me;
My shining drops must aid
Till his cloth white is made;
 Much work have I, you see.

"Good-bye, my child, good-bye;
No more I pause, but I
 Must hasten on my way.
My journey long will be,
Till I the ocean see;
 With you I must not stay."

A TRIOLET

'Tis a cold, windy night,
But the stars are all out;
They are many and bright,—
'Tis a cold, windy night.
Each clear, sparkling light
Bids my heart banish doubt;
'Tis a cold, windy night,
But the stars are all out.

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