"In this rapt, awed, ecstatic state I gazed--till lo! I was aware A fisherman had joined her there-- A weary man, with halting gait, Who toiled beneath a basket's weight: Her father, as I guessed, for she Had run to meet him gleefully And ta'en his burden to herself, That perched upon her shoulder's shelf So lightly that she, tripping, neared A jutting crag and disappeared; But she left the echo of a song That thrills me yet, and will as long As I have being! . . . . . . "Evenings came And went,--but each the same--the same: She watched above, and even so I stood there watching from below; Till, grown so bold at last, I sung,-- (What matter now the theme thereof!)-- It brought an answer from her tongue-- Faint as the murmur of a dove, Yet all the more the song of love. . . . "I turned and looked upon the bay, With palm to forehead--eyes a-blur In the sea's smile--meant but for her!-- I saw the fish-boats far away In misty distance, lightly drawn In chalk-dots on the horizon-- Looked back at her, long, wistfully;-- And, pushing off an empty skiff, I beckoned her to quit the cliff And yield me her rare company Upon a little pleasure-cruise.-- She stood, as loathful to refuse, To muse for full a moment's time,-- Then answered back in pantomime 'She feared some danger from the sea Were she discovered thus with me.' I motioned then to ask her if I might not join her on the cliff And back again, with graceful wave Of lifted arm, she answer gave 'She feared some danger from the sea.' "Impatient, piqued, impetuous, I Sprang in the boat, and flung 'Good-by' From pouted mouth with angry hand, And madly pulled away from land With lusty stroke, despite that she Held out her hands entreatingly: And when far out, with covert eye I shoreward glanced, I saw her fly In reckless haste adown the crag, Her hair a-flutter like a flag Of gold that danced across the strand In little mists of silver sand. All curious I, pausing, tried To fancy what it all implied,-- When suddenly I found my feet Were wet; and, underneath the seat On which I sat, I heard the sound Of gurgling waters, and I found The boat aleak alarmingly. . . . I turned and looked upon the sea, Whose every wave seemed mocking me; I saw the fishers' sails once more-- In dimmer distance than before; I saw the sea-bird wheeling by, With foolish wish that _I_ could fly: I thought of firm earth, home and friends-- I thought of everything that tends To drive a man to frenzy and To wholly lose his own command; I thought of all my waywardness-- Thought of a mother's deep distress; Of youthful follies yet unpurged-- Sins, as the seas, about me surged-- Thought of the printer's ready pen To-morrow drowning me again;-- A million things without a name-- I thought of everything but--Fame. . . .