 | The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill |  |
12
DREAM-DOOMED
A maid upon the lonely beach,
All in the silent, summer day,
With wide blue eyes fixed far away,
And small hands clinging each to each.
All in the silent, summer day,
With wide blue eyes fixed far away,
And small hands clinging each to each.
All day she wanders by the sea;—
What are the ways of men to her,
Whose soul is busy with the stir
Of never-resting memory?
What are the ways of men to her,
Whose soul is busy with the stir
Of never-resting memory?
For there had glanced a passing gleam
Of love all hopeless on her way,
And life's up-springing April day
God's hand had darkened with a dream.
Of love all hopeless on her way,
And life's up-springing April day
God's hand had darkened with a dream.
The mist floats on the desert's face,
And lake and isle all lustrous moulds,—
But when withdrawn its billowy folds,
How bare and desolate the place!
And lake and isle all lustrous moulds,—
But when withdrawn its billowy folds,
How bare and desolate the place!
Why should she live? The life above
Can scarce be sadder than her own;
But shall she die? For death alone
Can still the fluttering wing of love.
Can scarce be sadder than her own;
But shall she die? For death alone
Can still the fluttering wing of love.
13
When darkness on the ocean hangs,
She hears the loud surf tumbling in,
The loose stones jostling with a din
Like wild beast clashing-to his fangs.
She hears the loud surf tumbling in,
The loose stones jostling with a din
Like wild beast clashing-to his fangs.
Under the leaden morning sky,
She sees from off the toppling comb
The mad wind snatching flecks of foam
To whirl them wildly drifting by.
She sees from off the toppling comb
The mad wind snatching flecks of foam
To whirl them wildly drifting by.
And when, as daylight disappears,
The large moon upward moveth slow,
It seems to waver, shrink, and grow,
Trembling through such a mist of tears.
The large moon upward moveth slow,
It seems to waver, shrink, and grow,
Trembling through such a mist of tears.
But when the evening zephyrs blow
A music borne from off the sea,
She mingles with the melody
A plaintive song, all soft and low.
A music borne from off the sea,
She mingles with the melody
A plaintive song, all soft and low.
Calmly the night comes down on all the land,
Faintly the twilight glimmers o'er the sea,
Sadly the lingering ripples kiss the sand,
So sad I pace the beach and wait for thee.
Faintly the twilight glimmers o'er the sea,
Sadly the lingering ripples kiss the sand,
So sad I pace the beach and wait for thee.
Soft steal the muffled inland echoes here,
A sound of church-bells trembles on the lea,—
So softly, muffled memories meet the ear,
And seem to mock me as I wait for thee.
A sound of church-bells trembles on the lea,—
So softly, muffled memories meet the ear,
And seem to mock me as I wait for thee.
14
Solemnly still the great, calm stars glow on,
And all the broad, fair heaven leans silently,
While slumberous Ocean's undulous undertone
Still whispers with me as I wait for thee.
And all the broad, fair heaven leans silently,
While slumberous Ocean's undulous undertone
Still whispers with me as I wait for thee.
Upon the strand where life's loud surges beat,
My footsteps follow where my hope must be;
The dull, long days and nights break at my feet—
Must I forever, weeping, wait for thee?
My footsteps follow where my hope must be;
The dull, long days and nights break at my feet—
Must I forever, weeping, wait for thee?
Low lowers the dull-eyed winter's day—
A sullen sky the ocean mocks;
The surf beats bitterly the rocks,
Which wintry years have worn away.
A sullen sky the ocean mocks;
The surf beats bitterly the rocks,
Which wintry years have worn away.
Chafing within its cragged cage,
The wave again and still again
Leaps fiercely up its length of chain,
To fall back foaming in its rage.
The wave again and still again
Leaps fiercely up its length of chain,
To fall back foaming in its rage.
On the wet sands, with elfish hair,
And faded fingers tightly clenched,
And vest whose folds, all weather-drenched,
Leave half her haggard bosom bare,
And faded fingers tightly clenched,
And vest whose folds, all weather-drenched,
Leave half her haggard bosom bare,
She stands amid the spray, alone.
O heavy heart! that all thy years
Hast held one image dim with tears,
And watched it while it turned to stone.
O heavy heart! that all thy years
Hast held one image dim with tears,
And watched it while it turned to stone.
15
So wretched stands she staring there,
As if the desert and the storm
And bitter wind had taken form,
And frozen into that despair.
As if the desert and the storm
And bitter wind had taken form,
And frozen into that despair.
And looking on them thus I seem
To understand the life undone,
The life-long wretchedness of one
Whose youth was withered with a dream.
To understand the life undone,
The life-long wretchedness of one
Whose youth was withered with a dream.
| The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill | |