On the Sea Wall
I sit upon the old sea wall,And watch the shimmering sea,Where soft and white the moonbeams fall,Till, in a fantasy,Some pure white maiden’s funeral pallThe strange light seems to me.
The waters break upon the shoreAnd shiver at my feet,While I dream old dreams o’er and o’er,And dim old scenes repeat;Tho’ all have dreamed the same before,They still seem new and sweet.
The waves still sing the same old songThat knew an elder time;The breakers’ beat is not more strong,Their music more sublime;And poets thro’ the ages longHave set these notes to rhyme.
But this shall not deter my lyre,Nor check my simple strain;If I have not the old-time fire,I know the ancient pain:The hurt of unfulfilled desire,—The ember quenched by rain.
I know the softly shining seaThat rolls this gentle swellHas snarled and licked its tongues at meAnd bared its fangs as well;That ’neath its smile so heavenly,There lurks the scowl of hell!
But what of that? I strike my string(For songs in youth are sweet);I ‘ll wait and hear the waters bringTheir loud resounding beat;Then, in her own bold numbers singThe Ocean’s dear deceit!