“Now where you going? Speak, young man!”
They crowd around the crazy lad.
“I cannot tell; but where she went
I follow, and it makes me glad.

“D'you see her footsteps in the sand?
Look there! and there! and there again!
And O, to think she went this way …!
Does't give you joy, or pain?

“Sometimes I feel all joy: my heart
Is like the kind air round the earth;
It has its arms right round the world
And sings for all its worth.

“But sometimes nothing stays with me,
And then I seem a dripping well:
All dripping—dripping. O, it hurts
Too much to ever tell.”

“The lad's gone soft,” his father said,
“As soft as kneaded dough.”
“O come, my dearie—come with me!
And don't 'e take on so,”

His mother cried, putting her hands
Upon his face, then round his head.
But his father whispered to himself,
“I'd rather he was dead.”

She looked at him, and smiled at him;
“See lad! Tide's come and gone
Since ere a living soul has trod
The sand; and steps? there's none!”

Then suddenly there came a look
Of shining wonder on his face.
They all stood still, as though they saw
An angel in his place.

And then he cried, “O dearie Dear!
Why do you run away?
I only want to kiss your hands;
Do let me kiss them once to-day.

“'T will make me friends with God again.
Yes, I am friendly with Him now;
For now you smile and look at me,
And make a courtsey while I bow.

“Dear Heart, do stay—do stay awhile,
I am so tired with walking.
I'll never kiss your hands again,
Nor tire you with my talking.

“O lovely, lovely are your eyes!
Yet when the sun comes streaming through
Your wavy hair, like that, they look
Too dark and far away, for you.

“Come nearer, Love. Only a step.
There! Now I almost see your soul.
'Tis coming to me gradually.
Dear, Dear, do send it whole!

“O, O! You've turned away again!”—
He shut his trancèd eyes and fell.
His father said, “Well, here's a job.
Undo his collar, Nell.

“The 'sylum sure he'll have to go.
The lad was allers dazed
Either with brats or gals, and now
He's done it fair. He's crazed.

“Look, Bob, you take his feet. There, gal,
Do stop that howling row.
What's done's the will o' God. To that
We'd best look quick and bow.”