 | Poems |  |
V. JOY
Spring-tides of Pleasure in the blood, keen thrillOf eager nerves,—but ended as a dream;
Look! the wind quickens, and the long waves gleam
Shoreward, and all this deep noon hour will fill
Each lone sea-cave with mirth immeasurable,
Huge sport of Ocean's brood; yet eve's red sky
Fades o'er spent waters, weltering sullenly,
The dank piled weed, the sand-waste grey and still.
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Is stable; is discovered law; the birth
Of dreadful light; life's one imperative way;
The rigour hid in song; flowers' strict employ
Which turn to meet their sun; the roll of Earth
Swift and perpetual through the night and day.
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