 | The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill |  |
140
WEATHER-BOUND
Thou pitiless, false sea!
How, like a woman, thou wilt softly sigh
With heaving breast where bubble-jewels shine,
Or, beckoning, toss thy foam-white arms on high,
And laugh with those blue sunny eyes of thine!
How, like a woman, thou wilt softly sigh
With heaving breast where bubble-jewels shine,
Or, beckoning, toss thy foam-white arms on high,
And laugh with those blue sunny eyes of thine!
Ah, crouching, creeping sea!
Thou tiger-cat! how, while the winds make pause
To stroke thy long smooth back in quiet play,
Thou canst unsheathe thy velvet-hidden claws
And spring all unawares upon thy prey!
Thou tiger-cat! how, while the winds make pause
To stroke thy long smooth back in quiet play,
Thou canst unsheathe thy velvet-hidden claws
And spring all unawares upon thy prey!
Thou treacherous, cruel sea!
How thou wilt show thy glittering smile at night,
Hiding thy fangs, hushing thy fiendish cry,
And rise all gentle sport from licking white
The bones of men that underneath thee lie!
How thou wilt show thy glittering smile at night,
Hiding thy fangs, hushing thy fiendish cry,
And rise all gentle sport from licking white
The bones of men that underneath thee lie!
O bitter, bitter sea!
Didst thou not fawn about my naked feet,
When I stood with thee on the beach, and say
That thou wouldst bear me swiftly home to meet
My darling, waiting there in vain to-day?
Didst thou not fawn about my naked feet,
When I stood with thee on the beach, and say
That thou wouldst bear me swiftly home to meet
My darling, waiting there in vain to-day?
141
Yea, thou most mighty sea!
Keep then that promise murmured on the shore;
Put thy great shoulders to our loitering keel,
Not as in rage and wrath thou hast before—
Let the good ship thy help gigantic feel.
Keep then that promise murmured on the shore;
Put thy great shoulders to our loitering keel,
Not as in rage and wrath thou hast before—
Let the good ship thy help gigantic feel.
Thou answerest me, O sea!
Lifting in silence, o'er the waters stilled,
The shattered fragment of a rainbow fair,
A mocking promise, ne'er to be fulfilled,
Based on the waves and broken in mid-air.
Lifting in silence, o'er the waters stilled,
The shattered fragment of a rainbow fair,
A mocking promise, ne'er to be fulfilled,
Based on the waves and broken in mid-air.
| The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill | |