Now two have met, now two have met,
Who may not meet again—
Two grains of sand, two blades of grass,
Two threads within the skein—
A Mermaid’s not a human thing,
An’ courtin’ such is folly;
Of flesh an’ blood I’d rather sing,
What ain’t so melancholy.
Like star points in the ether to guide a homing soul
Towards God's Eternal Haven; above the wash and roll,
Across and o'er the oceans, on all the coasts they stand
Tall seneschals of commerce, High Wardens of the Strand --
With the lifting of the curtain,
Distance, dim, but grimly certain,
Breaks my vision of a city, populous and great,
To my senses, sorrow-sated,
No more will Rod his lyrics sing,
As tuneful as the thrush when Spring
With minstrel voice is calling;
As joyous as the gentle chime
**Life is dross, but Love is gold*
So, throughout the numbered days.
Mine to keep and thine to hold.
Be it as the Master says.
When a heavy surf is droning
In the twilight on the bar;
When our Mother Sea is crooning
The Mecca of Bohemian men
Was Archibald's untidy den.
Firm-footed near the portals there
Uprose, as now, a spacious stair