And why he still survived the rest, Why still he had the strength to stir, Why still he stood like gnarléd oak That buffets storm and tempest stroke, One cannot say, save but for her, That helpless being on his breast; At rest; that would not let him rest. She did not speak, she did not stir; In rippled currents over her Her black, abundant hair pour'd down Like mantle or some sable gown. That sad, sweet dreamer; she who knew Not any thing of earth at all, Nor cared to know its bane or bliss; That dove that did not touch the land, That knew, yet did not understand. And this may be because she drew Her all of life right from the hand Of God, and did not choose to learn The things that make up earth's concern. Ah! there be souls none understand; Like clouds, they cannot touch the land, Drive as they may by field or town. Then we look wise at this and frown, And we cry, "Fool," and cry, "Take hold Of earth, and fashion gods of gold." ... Unanchor'd ships, they blow and blow, Sail to and fro, and then go down In unknown seas that none shall know, Without one ripple of renown. Poor drifting dreamers sailing by, They seem to only live to die. Call these not fools; the test of worth Is not the hold you have of earth. Lo! there be gentlest souls sea-blown That know not any harbor known. Now it may be the reason is They touch on fairer shores than this. XLIII. And dark-eyed Ina? Nestled there, Half-hidden in her glorious hair, The while its midnight folds fell down From out his great arms nude and brown, She lay against his hairy breast, All motionless as death, below His great white beard like shroud, or snow, As if in everlasting rest. He totter'd side to side to keep Erect and keep his steady tread; He lean'd, he bent to her his head ... "She sleeps uncommon sound," he said, "As if in that eternal sleep, Where cool and watered willows sweep." At last he touch'd a fallen group, Dead fellows tumbled in the sands, Dead foemen, gather'd to the dead. And eager now the man did stoop, Lay down his load and reach his hands, And stretch his form and look steadfast And frightful, and as one aghast And ghostly from his hollow eyes. He lean'd and then he raised his head, And look'd for Vasques, but in vain; He laid his two great arms crosswise, Took breath a time with trembling main, Then peered again along the plain.