Sagas of Vaster Britain: Poems of the Race, the Empire and the Divinity of Man

by William Wilfred Campbell




THE lake comes throbbing in with voice of pain
    Across these flats, athwart the sunset’s glow,
I see her face, I know her voice again,
    Her lips, her breath, O God, as long ago.

To live the sweet past over I would fain,

    As lives the day in the red sunset’s fire,
That all these wild, wan marshlands now would stain,
    With the dawn’s memories, loves and flushed desire.

I call her back across the vanished years,
    Nor vain—a white-armed phantom fills her place;

Its eyes the wind-blown sunset fires, its tears
    This rain of spray that blows about my face.