 | Poems by Sarah Helen Whitman |  |
149
NIGHT AND STORM.
I saw the waning August moon
Rise o'er the rocky shore,
And on a sad and stormy sea
Its lurid crimson pour.
Rise o'er the rocky shore,
And on a sad and stormy sea
Its lurid crimson pour.
My window opened to the east,
And far and far away,
I saw the headlong billows breast
The breakers of the bay.
And far and far away,
I saw the headlong billows breast
The breakers of the bay.
The broad red sea seemed like a field
Where charging squadrons go:
I heard the clang of spear and shield,
I heard the clarions blow.
Where charging squadrons go:
I heard the clang of spear and shield,
I heard the clarions blow.
Near me the dancers' flying feet,
With sounds of harp and horn,
And wild waltz-music, madly sweet,
Were on the night-winds borne.
With sounds of harp and horn,
And wild waltz-music, madly sweet,
Were on the night-winds borne.
Rich voices lingered on the ear,
And laughter floated by,
And many a call of merry cheer,
And many a glad reply.
And laughter floated by,
150
And many a glad reply.
I only watched the trampling feet
Of waves upon the shore;
I only heard their war-drums beat,
Their plunging batteries roar.
Of waves upon the shore;
I only heard their war-drums beat,
Their plunging batteries roar.
I thought on many a bannered plain,
On battles lost and won,
On homes bereft and heroes slain,
And armies marching on.
On battles lost and won,
On homes bereft and heroes slain,
And armies marching on.
The wild waltz-music died away,
The laughter and the glee,
But all night long a stormy song
Seemed sounding from the sea:
The laughter and the glee,
But all night long a stormy song
Seemed sounding from the sea:
A wail of trumpets in the air,
A dead march on the wave,
Wild tones of triumph or despair
O'er all our martyred brave.
A dead march on the wave,
Wild tones of triumph or despair
O'er all our martyred brave.
I hailed Jehovah's fiery sword
In battles lost and won;
I hailed the armies of the Lord
And heard them marching on.
In battles lost and won;
I hailed the armies of the Lord
And heard them marching on.
Ocean House, Cape Elizabeth, August, 1863.
| Poems by Sarah Helen Whitman | |