The Halcyon

O Love, O bitter, mortal journeying
By ways that are not told!
I would not sing, no song is sweet to me
Now thou art gone:
But would, ah would I were the halcyon,
That sea-blue bird of spring,
So should I bring
Fair sister-companies of fleetest wing
To bear thee on.
Thou being old,
With an untroubled heart to carry thee
Safe o'er the ridges of the wearying sea.