Sea-foam and Driftwood.
I.
Alas, not always gladness !— In thy tone,1
O sea, there comes a melancholy moan,2
That tells of secrets which are all thine own.3
We cannot learn thy deepest mysteries.4
Perhaps thou breathest broken tones of these5
To the lone sea-bird and the homeless breeze :6
Perhaps thou tellest to the sea-beat hill,7
And caverns green, the lore for which we thrill ;—8
We ask thee for a word, and thou art still.9
II.
By yonder cottage on the sand10
The patient fisher-wife doth stand,11
Her eyes o’ershadowed with her hand.12
Her ruddy boy, with laugh of glee,13
Is calling her triumphantly14
To watch his sports beside the sea ;15
But she, though answ’ring with a smile,16
Is sad and tremulous the while,17
Nor can his joy her care beguile.18
She gazes on the waters grey,19
And, seeming inwardly to pray,20
Dashes a sudden tear away.21
III.
The seaward tide, with languid waves retreating,22
Has left yon hulk upon the ridgy sand,—23
No more with madden’d fury blindly beating24
Its timbers to the land.25
Careless it leaves it now in shatter’d glory26
Its office of Destroyer laid aside,27
And tells to other shores the boastful story28
Of its triumphant pride.29
So have I seen, by angry tempests riven,30
A broken heart lie wrecked on life’s sad shore,31
While still above shone mild the pitying heaven,32
And surges rolled no more.33