Page:Poems Piatt.djvu/17

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A VOYAGE TO THE FORTUNATE ISLES. THE FABLE OF A HOUSEHOLD.
"Yes, but I fear to leave the shore.
So fierce, so shadowy, so cold,
Deserts of water lie before—
Whose secrets night has never told,
Save in close whispers to the dead.
  I fear," one vaguely said.

One answered: "Will you waver here?
As wild and lonesome as the things
Which hold their wet nests, year by year,
In these poor rocks, are we. Their wings
Grow restless—wherefore not our feet?
  That which is strange is sweet."

"That which we know is sweeter yet.
Do we not love the near Earth more