Bread Upon the Waters
So you are lost to me! Ah you, you ear of corn straight lying, What food is this for the darkly flying Fowls of the Afterwards! White bread afloat on the waters, Cast out by the hand that scatters Food untowards, Will you come back when the tide turns? After many days? My heart yearns To know. Will you return after many days To say your say as a traveller says, More marvel than woe? Drift then, for the sightless birds And the fish in shadow-waved herds To approach you. Drift then, bread cast out; Drift, lest I fall in doubt, And reproach you. For you are lost to me!
This poem is in the public domain.