ABSTRACT
Rodd (Lord Rennell). From Songs in the South, 1881. I would we had carried him far away To the light of this south sun land, Where the hills lean down to some red-rocked bay And the sea’s blue breaks into snow-white spray As the wave dies out on the sand. Not there, not there, where the winds deface! Where the storm and the cloud race by! But far away in this flowerful place Where endless summers retouch, retrace What flowers find heart to die. And if ever the souls of the loved, set free, Come back to the souls that stay, Icould dream he would sit for a while with me Where I sit by this wonderful tideless sea And look to the red-rocked bay, By the high cliff’s edge where the wild weeds twine, And he would not speak or move, But his eyes would gaze from his soul at mine, My eyes that would answer without one sign, And that were enough for love. And I think I should feel as the sun went round That he was not there any more, But dews were wet on the grass-grown mound On the bed of my love lying underground, And evening pale on the shore.
