My oars keep time to half a rhyme, That slips and slides away from me. Across my mind, like idle wind, A lost thought beateth lazily. Adream, afloat, my little boat And I alone steal out to sea. One vanished year, O Lost and Dear! You rowed the little boat for me. Ah, who can sing of anything With none to listen lovingly? Or who can time the oars to rhyme When left to row alone to sea?
Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward (1844-1911)