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115
“DROWNED! DROWNED!”
'T is said when drowning, snatched from life and light—
When drowning in sad waters deep and wide—
When drowning, that the waters and the wave
Do moan most musically, and singing, sigh
In tenderest tones, and witching wild refrains,
That enter at the ear and fill the brain
With music, quieting; and that the soul
Is fraught with harmony, and urged to leave
Its transient habitation i' the clay,
And seek that far-beyond, we know not of.
When drowning in sad waters deep and wide—
When drowning, that the waters and the wave
Do moan most musically, and singing, sigh
In tenderest tones, and witching wild refrains,
That enter at the ear and fill the brain
With music, quieting; and that the soul
Is fraught with harmony, and urged to leave
Its transient habitation i' the clay,
And seek that far-beyond, we know not of.
The body's tenantless sleep is all a-cold;
And coming tides slow bear it to the strand,
Among the rushes; and the fingers close
In icy clasp among the rushes, while
The ripples, each in turn, slip up the shore,
And kiss the feet, and the close about the hands,
And twine the hair among the roots, and trail
The long sea-grasses over all the form
In slimy ribbons.
And coming tides slow bear it to the strand,
Among the rushes; and the fingers close
In icy clasp among the rushes, while
The ripples, each in turn, slip up the shore,
And kiss the feet, and the close about the hands,
And twine the hair among the roots, and trail
116
In slimy ribbons.
Then the tides recede
And leave the body, pale, and lank, and cold,
All in the silence of night, upon the strand—
Sad waters moaning for the still, dead form,
The soulless body sleeping on the strand.
And after
A bleachen skull, outstaring the bold sun—
The mystery of birth, and age, and name—
The secret of the soul's flight, and the blank
And wordless story of a shattered life!
And leave the body, pale, and lank, and cold,
All in the silence of night, upon the strand—
Sad waters moaning for the still, dead form,
The soulless body sleeping on the strand.
And after
A bleachen skull, outstaring the bold sun—
The mystery of birth, and age, and name—
The secret of the soul's flight, and the blank
And wordless story of a shattered life!
The rattling reeds, and the salt-odored sea
In tireless waves—the hollow autumn wind
Tossing among the rushes—and one star
Dropping pearl shadows in the empty bowls
That held the eyes once in this withered skull!
In tireless waves—the hollow autumn wind
Tossing among the rushes—and one star
Dropping pearl shadows in the empty bowls
That held the eyes once in this withered skull!
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