| I have vainly sought love and lost, yet | | | | sea’s harsh heartbeat, |
| wait—alone | | | | And as our voices meet, farewell, farewell to |
| I must fall fathoms-deep, before I find it, this I | | | | humanity;The sea morns with grief, brings to me |
| knowAnd to my sweet, but broken heart a silver | | | | its mystery— |
| voice replies | | | | I hear it calling, calling, with untroubled, misty |
| ‘Like a butterfly: death will take you, and | | | | eyes:I hear it calling, calling me: “Come, I |
| make you alive’There will be no repentant | | | | will set you free!” |
| eyes, nor broken wings, | | | | Fathoms deep my echoes reach: ‘I follow |
| Only a moment of faith, from hours of heart felt | | | | at thy will!…’Notes: #1387[7/12/06] |
| tears.Oh tangled winds, with silver wings, do bring, | | | | Died November 7, 1907; born: 1881 in New York |
| do bring | | | | State; attended UCLA; associated editor on the |
| This fallen bird, eyed with light, eternal love and | | | | ‘Argonaut’; Poet, Journalist, killed |
| night!Do bring, do bring, silver shadows, to this | | | | herself at George Sterling’s (Poet of San |
| lifeless thing, | | | | Francisco) home at Carmel by he sea, by way of |
| Then I will sing, sing, in the far off hung sea | | | | cyanide, November 13, 1907. |
| waves—I will sing, sing, in the grave, to the | | | | |