“WHY BE AT PAINS?”

Why be at pains that I should know

You sought not me?

Do breezes, then, make features glow

So rosily?

Come, the lit port is at our back,

And the tumbling sea;

Elsewhere the lampless uphill track

To uncertainty!

O should not we two waifs join hands?

I am alone,

You would enrich me more than lands

By being my own.

Yet, though this facile moment flies,

Close is your tone,

And ere to-morrow's dewfall dries

I plough the unknown.