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Your arrival came too soon for me,
So that it seemed no coming, but a leaving;
More like a vessel putting out to sea
Than what it was – the Father’s arms receiving
The son his heart had yearned so long to see.
Nothing but the lapping of the waves
Remains, a quiet wake behind your sailing,
And the deep echo in the distant caves,
And the sea-mist, your last departure veiling,
And the sad lapping, lapping of the waves.
But, beyond where mortal eyes can see,
A Father on a distant shore is dancing,
Powerless to contain the ecstasy
At seeing his dear child so close advancing.
I know you rest where you were born to be;
But your arrival came too soon for me.
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