t one rope,

    But  to me--

    And I quakd to think of my own voice

    ful it would be!

    t daheir arms,

    And clusterd round t:

    S sounds rose slohs

    And from their bodies passd.

    Around, around, ?ew eac sound,

    ted to the sun:

    Slohe sounds came back again

    Now mixd, now one by one.

    Sometimes a dropping from the sky

    I he Lavrock sing;

    Sometimes all little birds t are

    o ?ll the sea and air

    it jargoning,

    And noruments,

    Noe;

    And no is an angels song

    t makes te.

    It ceasd: yet still the sails made on

    A pleasant noise till noon,

    A noise like of a hidden brook

    In th of June,

    t to t

    Singet tune.

    Listen, O listen, t!

    quot;Marinere! t thy will:

    quot;For t, h make

    quot;My body and soul to be still.quot;

    Never sadder tale old

    to a man of woman born:

    Sadder and !

    t rise to morrow morn.

    Never sadder tale was heard

    By a man of woman born:

    turnd to work

    As silent as beforne.

    the ropes,

    But look at me they nold:

    t I, I am as thin as air--

    t me behold.

    till moon ly saild on

    Yet never a breeze did breathe:

    Slo the ship

    Movd onh.

    Under thom deep

    From t and snow

    t slid: and it was he

    t made to go.

    t noon left off tune

    And tood still also.

    t