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143

ALICE OF THE SEA.

I

The windy surgy sea
Was as the soul of thee,
O Alice of the sea, and of the bower
Where Love in tender light
With face and body bright
Shone through youth's one divine impassioned hour.

II

Not any dreary town
Thou hadst, O love, for crown,—
But all the untrodden deep impetuous waters

163

Urgent in gathered wrath
Were strenuous round thy path,
O fairest-eyed of all earth's fair-eyed daughters!

III

The miles of golden corn
At thy glad breath were born
And all the blue sun-nurtured summer weather
Smiled tenderly round thee,
And all the sun-kissed sea
Laughed,—as we trode the clamorous beach together.

IV

The endless hopes of youth
Were thine, and fervent truth
Waved round thy form exultant her white wings,

164

And glittering fancies past
Before thee on the blast
And many sacred dreams of many things.

V

Not in the August air
Alone, love, thou wast fair,
But in the days of dreams that followed thee;
By hills of other lands
The magic of thine hands
Was felt, and thy foot fell by many a sea.

VI

Never a summer came
But in the robe of flame
And flowers that wrapped each summer's soft shape round

165

Thou wast,—and the urgent seas
Still washed as toward thy knees
And still thy beauty winter's chains unbound.

VII

Into the strange dim land
Of Poesy thine hand
Imperious and girl-queenly beckoned me:
And there I found again
With throbs of joy and pain
The clear divine unaltered spirit of thee.

VIII

Though round about my head,
Now the old dream hath fled,
Loves many and of other shores have bound

166

Red flowers, and white and pale,
Are such wreaths of avail
If on life's lintel once thy foot doth sound?

IX

If once the sense of seas
Comes, and of gracious breeze
That o'er the wide luxurious tideway hovers,
How vanishes the town,
And all its gateways frown,
While smile the sandy cliffs and short oak-covers!

X

Again the ripples dance
Before our eager glance,
O Alice of the giant-memoried sea:

167

And suns long-hidden shine,
And pliant gold woodbine
I weave into a circlet meet for thee.

XI

Thy beauty made the air
Of summer yet more fair
And every rose of summer softer still:
Thy sweetness made the days
Diviner and my lays
Flash forth like light-beams sparkling down a rill:

XII

Thy splendour made the white
Waves but a lesser sight
And all the moon-beams but inferior rays:

168

Thy glory made my dreams
Resplendent with wild gleams,—
Made marvellous the far-lit water-ways:

XIII

Thy softness made each morn
A joy-god newly born:
Thy tender love was as the hand of thee
Moulding all things anew
Beneath emergent blue
That flamed no more storm-shadowed o'er the sea:

XIV

Thy laughter made the land
No more a waste of sand
Whereover hopeless roamed youth's shuddering tread,

169

But one wide land of flowers
Wherethrough the honied hours
On wings of quivering rainbow-rapture sped.

XV

No more when thee I saw
I felt the old strong awe
Of poets, singers elder and divine;
I knew that I might meet,
Because thy mouth was sweet,
Fearless their long and laurel-crownèd line.

XVI

I knew that through thy strength
My power would come at length
And that my grey-eyed Alice of the sea

170

Among their loves would stand,
A queen amid the band
Of English queens through the wild harp of me.

XVII

I stood forth,—and I sang;
Sometimes with sorrow-pang
Smitten, and sometimes pierced with dart of glee;
But ever in my sight
Keeping thy grey eyes' light
And the old light that glistened o'er our sea.

XVIII

That this one thing be done
Ere solemn set of sun
I've vowed,—and struggle towards it as I may;

171

That thy name may be high
'Mid names that cannot die,
When comes for me the closing of my day:

XIX

That, when no sound again
Is heard, no new love-strain,
No further voice or lyre or harp of me,
Still may thy memory cling,
A white immortal thing,
To the world's heart as deathless as the sea:

XX

That, when the new harps come
And men seek back for some
Fairest of those who filled to-day with glee,

172

They may with rapture find
This singing-wreath I've twined
About thy brows, O lady of the sea:

XXI

With rapture not for sake
Of this the song I make,
But for the sake of thee the song's white flower;
Oh, may the future know
Thy beauty, when I go,
Silenced at mine inevitable hour!

XXII

New queens of love will shine,
New waves, as white a line,
Sweep upward, thundering o'er the yellow sands

173

In autumns crisp and fair,—
But will the new years bear
As sweet a woman as thou for new glad lands?

XXIII

Will others of thy name
Come, not the very same,
But even as fair, with singers at their feet?
Will even our old woods thrill
To voices and the hill
For these be whitened with fresh meadow-sweet?

XXIV

Yes:—many a rose most red
Though thou and I be dead
Shall cast imperious perfume through the land,

174

And many women fair
Wind wonderful dark hair
Or golden ringlets, shining band on band.

XXV

New passions shall awake,
New hearts with rapture shake,
And the same silver moonbeam thrill the sea,
When thou and I are gone
To loveless lands and wan,—
Sweetheart, what shall abide of thee and me?

XXVI

My singing shall abide:
This vision of my Bride:
And all our songful glory of meadow-sweet

175

That fadeless and in flower
We gift with living power
To blossom even around our vanished feet.

XXVII

The new glad streams shall sound
And new delight abound
And new loves' silvery laughter fill with glee
The woods where we with slow
Step wandered long ago;
Again young hearts shall dream beside our sea.

XXVIII

But as for us we pass
Beyond earth's flowers and grass;
No mortal foot may pause, but onward each

176

Hurries to things unseen,
Through pale springs and the sheen
Of golden summers, and wild autumns' speech.

XXIX

Never again we tread
The old land: it is dead:
Never the green cliffs quite the same shall stand
For us,—or the blue seas
Answer the self-same breeze,
Or hand thrill quite as softly tingling hand.

XXX

Never a rose escapes
The winter and new-drapes
Its beauty: never, Alice of the sea,

177

Shall quite the same eyes meet
Mine own, or same voice greet
My coming,—or the same love gladden thee.

XXXI

But ever through my song
The same waves sound their strong
Triumphant paean,—and the streams pervade
The woods with silver speech
And moons illume the beach
And white flowers fill the tangled forest-shade.

XXXII

In song they speak again;
My singing is the fane
Wherein thou art enshrined with all thy flowers;

178

There is not one which fails,
From all those summer vales,
To adorn thine own perennial singing-bowers:

XXXIII

Not one bud pale and dim
But blossoms in my hymn;
Not one moon-silvered wavelet but doth sound
Within the singing walls
Wherethrough my spirit calls
To thee; wherein thine answering soul is found:

XXXIV

Not one rose but is grand
Within the singing-land,
And oh, thou sea-sweet woman, thou art there

179

Never diviner yet,
Nor tenderer eyelids wet;
Never more queenly,—never yet more fair:

XXXV

Unchanged and as of old
Thine hand in mine I hold
Within the singing-temple I have made,
And through its arches clear
Thy ringing laugh I hear
And robelike round me falls love long-delayed:

XXXVI

And with our words the tides
Mix, on the same shore-sides,
And voices of the woods,—thy soul and me

180

Blending in love as fair
As August morning's air
When first we met, O Alice of the Sea!