 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
126
THE PAST.
As the years fall behind us, in the rearAnd backward of our time, 'tis like the tide
When it has ebbed far out, and left a wide
And lonesome waste of sand and seaweed drear;
With waifs and strays of lost ones, wreck of dear
And precious freightage, cast for aye aside
Amid Time's wastes; and (more) what it doth hide,
That cold, remorseless sand, which we shall ne'er
Again have sense of! Hollow sound the waves,
More muffled, distant; voices of the Past,
Dim, vague, and sad, as they ebb out o'er graves,
With gathering darkness and the moaning blast,
To that dread Deep, where Hope all-vainly craves,
With seaward gaze, glimpse of returning mast!
| Stones from The Quarry | |