 | Poems by Miss H. F. Gould |  |
212
SEA-SIDE MUSINGS.
O, let me go down, all alone,
And sit by the side of the sea!
The sounds of its voice give my spirit a tone,
That hushes her murmur, and quiets her moan,
Till woes, that have pierced me, are dreams that have flown,
Or drowned in the glory to be.
And sit by the side of the sea!
The sounds of its voice give my spirit a tone,
That hushes her murmur, and quiets her moan,
Till woes, that have pierced me, are dreams that have flown,
Or drowned in the glory to be.
Each billow, that mounts to my sight,
And sinks for another to rise,
Adoring its God, in its moment of light,
And owning his power in its fulness of might,
To him gives a smile by a gleam from its height,
And calls on his name, as it dies.
And sinks for another to rise,
Adoring its God, in its moment of light,
And owning his power in its fulness of might,
To him gives a smile by a gleam from its height,
And calls on his name, as it dies.
He holds the wild water! they curl
And sing in his hand to my heart:
The gems they roll o'er points my thoughts to the pearl,
Which clasping, my spirit her pinions would furl,
To rest where no blast of the tempest can hurl
The soul and her treasure apart.
And sing in his hand to my heart:
The gems they roll o'er points my thoughts to the pearl,
Which clasping, my spirit her pinions would furl,
To rest where no blast of the tempest can hurl
The soul and her treasure apart.
My wishes, that vainly would roam
And fasten on bubbles or air,
Are chid by the wave—by the hiss of the foam,
And drop of the spray!—they are bidding me home!
Home, to my country beyond the blue dome!
My Father's bright mansion is there.
And fasten on bubbles or air,
Are chid by the wave—by the hiss of the foam,
And drop of the spray!—they are bidding me home!
Home, to my country beyond the blue dome!
My Father's bright mansion is there.
| Poems by Miss H. F. Gould | |