And the nodding mother sighed: “'Tis sorrow makes ye dull; Have ye yet to learn the cry of the tern, Or the wail of the wind-blown gull?” “The terns are blown inland, The gray gull follows the plough. 'Twas never a bird, the voice I heard, O mother, I hear it now!” “Lie still, dear lamb, lie still; The child is passed from harm, 'Tis the ache in your breast that broke your rest, And the feel of an empty arm.” She put her mother aside, “In Mary's name let be! For the peace of my soul I must go,” she said, And she went to the calling sea. In the heel of the wind-bit pier, Where the twisted weed was piled, She came to the life she had missed by an hour, For she came to a little child. She laid it into her breast, And back to her mother she came, But it would not feed and it would not heed, Though she gave it her own child's name. And the dead child dripped on her breast, And her own in the shroud lay stark; And “God forgive us, mother,” she said, “We let it die in the dark!” EVARRA AND HIS GODS _Read here: This is the story of Evarra -- man -- Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea._ Because the city gave him of her gold, Because the caravans brought turquoises, Because his life was sheltered by the King, So that no man should maim him, none should steal, Or break his rest with babble in the streets When he was weary after toil, he made An image of his God in gold and pearl, With turquoise diadem and human eyes, A wonder in the sunshine, known afar, And worshipped by the King; but, drunk with pride, Because the city bowed to him for God, He wrote above the shrine: “_Thus Gods are made, And whoso makes them otherwise shall die._” And all the city praised him. . . . Then he died. _Read here the story of Evarra -- man -- Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea._ Because the city had no wealth to give, Because the caravans were spoiled afar, Because his life was threatened by the King, So that all men despised him in the streets, He hewed the living rock, with sweat and tears, And reared a God against the morning-gold, A terror in the sunshine, seen afar, And worshipped by the King; but, drunk with pride, Because the city fawned to bring him back, He carved upon the plinth: “_Thus Gods are made, And whoso makes them otherwise shall die._” And all the people praised him. . . . Then he died.