Page:Leaves on the tide and other poems.djvu/26

From my door the river winds
In and out among the creeks,
Looking, and whate'er it finds.
Never finding what it seeks.

For anon it turns again
Toward the sea that drinks it in,
Where the dory fishermen
Daily bread would daily win.

Day by day and year by year,
Come and go the sea and wind;
I am like the river here,
Seeking what I never find.