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 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
EBB-TIDE.
With her white face full of agony,
Under her dripping locks,
I hear the wretched, restless sea,
Complaining to the rocks.
Under her dripping locks,
I hear the wretched, restless sea,
Complaining to the rocks.
Helplessly in her great despair,
She shudders on the sand,
The bright weeds dropping from her hair,
And the pale shells from her hand.
She shudders on the sand,
The bright weeds dropping from her hair,
And the pale shells from her hand.
'T is pitiful thus to see her lie,
With her beating, heaving breast,
Here, where she fell, when cast aside,
Sobbing herself to rest.
With her beating, heaving breast,
Here, where she fell, when cast aside,
Sobbing herself to rest.
Alas, alas! for the foolish sea,
Why was there none to say:
The wave that strikes on the heartless stone
Must break and fall away?
Why was there none to say:
The wave that strikes on the heartless stone
Must break and fall away?
Why could she not have known that this
Would be her fate at length;—
For the hand, unheld, must slip at last,
Though it cling with love's own strength?
Would be her fate at length;—
For the hand, unheld, must slip at last,
Though it cling with love's own strength?
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |