 | Gathered in the gloaming |  |
The Burden of the Sea.
I
From deep mid-ocean, in the solemn night,No wandering sail abroad, no shore in sight,
What voice goes up, sonorous through the spheres,
And what its burden that God only hears?
II
The burden of the Sea! that infinite woeOf ages, endless as its ebb and flow—
Endless and hopeless—hark the mystic song!
“How long”—it seems to moan—“O Lord, how long!”
| Gathered in the gloaming | |