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WITH THE TIDE
Yestreen, the hour before he died,
He groan’d, and said: “Dear lass,
Go see if the tide be like to turn
And my poor soul to pass.”
And I went. But I swore to God as I went,
That I would not let him pass.
I went down to the twilight shore,
I watch’d the full tide swell,
And I set my heart, as it rose and rose,
To hold him, ’gainst it fell.
My heart was as deep as Heaven with love,
And as hot with pain as Hell.
And, being at last in a lone place,
With nought save Him beside,
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