51 COMPETITORS

Heart o’ My Heart, dost thou not hear Tired waves, perturbed by the mystery Of the voiding east where vext winds veer, Lamenting and lisping?—I, the Sea, Grapple and strain till I win to thee I have loved so long, and may never depart From that age-long siege till I win to thee, Though I win as Enipëus, Heart o’ My Heart. —The Sea’s exordium Pleads thus, cor cordium. Heart o’ My Heart, dost thou not hear A sighing of dying Winds?—crying to thee:— We that were friendly with Guinevere, And wafted Queen Helen oversea, And served that lady of mystery Balkis, a Sheban—caress and depart Unwillingly, finding none fairer than thee In those cold old venturings, Heart o’ My Heart. —The Winds’ exordium Sighs thus, cor cordium. Heart o’ My Heart, dost thou not hear Love that strives—as the yearning Sea, As the truant Winds,—for the staid, and severe, And sturdy and stainless heart of thee?— Nay, without warning Love wins to thee Suddenly some day, swift to impart The secret of tears and the mystery Of sorrow and heartbreak, Heart o’ My Heart. —Without exordium Love takes, cor cordium. All sighs and tears are the Winds and the Sea, And fit precursors—nay, portion and part— Of Love that is silent, and wins to thee Silently some day, Heart o’ My Heart.