 | The poems of Celia Thaxter |  |
TWO SONNETS
Not so! You stand as long ago a king
Stood on the seashore, bidding back the tide
That onward rolled resistless still, to fling
Its awful volume landward, wild and wide.
And just as impotent is your command
To stem the tide that rises in my soul.
It ebbs not at the lifting of your hand,
It owns no curb, it yields to no control;
Mighty it is, and of the elements,—
Brother of winds and lightning, cold and fire,
Subtle as light, as steadfast and intense;
Sweet as the music of Apollo's lyre.
You think to rule the ocean's ebb and flow
With that soft woman's hand? Nay, love, not so.
Stood on the seashore, bidding back the tide
That onward rolled resistless still, to fling
Its awful volume landward, wild and wide.
And just as impotent is your command
To stem the tide that rises in my soul.
It ebbs not at the lifting of your hand,
It owns no curb, it yields to no control;
Mighty it is, and of the elements,—
Brother of winds and lightning, cold and fire,
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Sweet as the music of Apollo's lyre.
You think to rule the ocean's ebb and flow
With that soft woman's hand? Nay, love, not so.
And like the lighthouse on the rock you stand,
And pierce the distance with your searching eyes;
Nor do you heed the waves that storm the land
And endlessly about you fall and rise,
But seek the ships that wander night and day
Within the dim horizon's shadowy ring;
And some with flashing glance you warn away,
And some you beckon with sweet welcoming.
So steadfast still you keep your lofty place,
Safe from the tumult of the restless tide,
Firm as the rock in your resisting grace,
And strong through humble duty, not through pride.
While I—I cast my life before your feet,
And only live that I may love you, sweet!
And pierce the distance with your searching eyes;
Nor do you heed the waves that storm the land
And endlessly about you fall and rise,
But seek the ships that wander night and day
Within the dim horizon's shadowy ring;
And some with flashing glance you warn away,
And some you beckon with sweet welcoming.
So steadfast still you keep your lofty place,
Safe from the tumult of the restless tide,
Firm as the rock in your resisting grace,
And strong through humble duty, not through pride.
While I—I cast my life before your feet,
And only live that I may love you, sweet!
| The poems of Celia Thaxter | |