To a Sea-cliff

Lend me an ear
While I read you here
A page from your history,
Old cliff — not known
To your solid stone,
Yet yours inseparably.

Near to your crown
There once sat down
A silent listless pair;
And the sunset ended,
And dark descended,
And still the twain sat there.

Past your jutting head
Then a line-ship sped,
Lit brightly as a city;
And she sobbed: “There goes
A man who knows
I am his, beyond God’s pity!”

He slid apart
Who had thought her heart
His own, and not aboard
A bark, sea-bound...
That night they found
Between them lay a sword.