No chords for my memory bring ; 
Those lips like a soul that are clinging most 
silently cling. 
 
Take though for these verses, though time be 
So sure and so swift for thy feet, 
Though far from this England thy clime be 
In years that sway slow as the wheat, 
Take thought, for an hour let my rhyme be not 
wholly unsweet. 
 
For truth and desire and devotion 
May lend through the verses a voice, 
They tremble with violent motion, 
They yearn to be fair for thy choice 
As billows and winds of the ocean that roar and 
rejoice. 
 
For winds that are shaken and riven 
I bound by my power unto me ; 
For these have I battled and striven 
With winds that are rapid and free ; 
With weapons of words I have driven the pulse of 
the sea. 
108