YE WEARIE WAYFARER 



Then those who listen in sinking ships, 



To despairing sobs from their lov'd one's lips, 



Where the green wave thus slowly shatters, 

 May long for the crescent-claw that rips 

 The bison into ribbons and strips, 



And tears the strong elk to tatters. 

 Oh ! sunderings short of body and breath ! 

 Oh ! '* battle and murder and sudden death ! " 



Against which the Liturgy preaches ; 

 By the will of a just, yet a merciful Power, 

 Less bitter, perchance, in the mystic hour, 

 When the wings of the shadowy angel lower. 



Than man in his blindness teaches ! 



Fytte VI 

 POTTERS' CLAY 



AN ALLEGORICAL INTERLUDE 

 ** Nee propter vitam vivendi perdere causas." 



Though the pitcher that goes to the sparkling 

 rill 



Too oft gets broken at last, 

 There are scores of others its place to fill 



When its earth to the earth is cast ; 

 Keep that pitcher at home, let it never roam, 



But lie like a useless clod, 



3 33 



