Towards the country of sober skies,
The land of the sullen sea,
Where dwell the azure, disdainful eyes
That never had light for me.
Many the rules in the stressful North!
And wearier most than wise;
But though I wandered away, came forth
From under those clouded skies.
Two laws are fixed, as the stars above,
For every race and clime;
One is the cruel Sweetness of Love
And one the Shortness of Time!
Ah, Well-beloved, though I may not spend
The best of my soul on you,
Ask of me as you would of a friend,
All that I can I will do.
For now that none have the right to say
"This thing is not meet for thee,"
I take what happiness drifts my way
Well quit of the world and free.
90
