 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
RAFE'S CHASM.
You come to it on level ground:
Sweet-fern and bayberry, close around,
The jutting crags hang over;
An echo of lost sound is Rafe,
The phantom of an unclaimed waif,
Doomed ever here to hover.
Sweet-fern and bayberry, close around,
The jutting crags hang over;
An echo of lost sound is Rafe,
The phantom of an unclaimed waif,
Doomed ever here to hover.
Rafe has no legend, but the chasm
Bears record of some torturing spasm
That wrenched these cliffs asunder,
When earth and sea in madness met;
The waves repeat their passion yet,
In throbs of rhythmic thunder.
Bears record of some torturing spasm
That wrenched these cliffs asunder,
When earth and sea in madness met;
The waves repeat their passion yet,
In throbs of rhythmic thunder.
A black gash torn into the land:
When tides are out, you safely stand
Within the abysmal hollow,
And see, across a shred of sky,
A pale rose look down tremblingly,
A swaying gull or swallow.
When tides are out, you safely stand
Within the abysmal hollow,
And see, across a shred of sky,
A pale rose look down tremblingly,
A swaying gull or swallow.
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But when the sea returns, beware!
Though safely winds the cavern-stair,
Trust not the treacherous billow!
Rafe moans within his dungeon-gates;
A demon for his victim waits;
The smooth rock is death's pillow.
Though safely winds the cavern-stair,
Trust not the treacherous billow!
Rafe moans within his dungeon-gates;
A demon for his victim waits;
The smooth rock is death's pillow.
Just where you stand, a girl, one day,
Stood watching the impetuous play
Of surges bellowing after
The baby-waves with ponderous bound,
That made the gorge, far in, resound
With chords of savage laughter.
Stood watching the impetuous play
Of surges bellowing after
The baby-waves with ponderous bound,
That made the gorge, far in, resound
With chords of savage laughter.
Unwrinkled as an infant's brow
The gray Sea's forehead; wondrous, how
Out of so deep a quiet
So wild a tumult could unfold!
What inward, vast restraint controlled
The elements in riot!
The gray Sea's forehead; wondrous, how
Out of so deep a quiet
So wild a tumult could unfold!
What inward, vast restraint controlled
The elements in riot!
The calm of that great heaving breast
Lulled hers into enchanted rest;
The stealthy tide crept nearer:
She heard her comrades' warning call
Break sharply down the beetling wall,
Each instant sterner, clearer.
Lulled hers into enchanted rest;
The stealthy tide crept nearer:
She heard her comrades' warning call
Break sharply down the beetling wall,
Each instant sterner, clearer.
“Let me but wait for one wave more!”
The words were scarcely breathed, before
A mighty billow lifted
The heedless maiden high upon
His giant crest,—and she is gone!
Out into silence drifted.
The words were scarcely breathed, before
A mighty billow lifted
The heedless maiden high upon
His giant crest,—and she is gone!
Out into silence drifted.
What does the cold, bright ocean care
For shapes that gesture their despair
Against the blue sky yonder?
Laughs the dim demon of the cave:
Of one more victim he can rave,
When idlers hither wander.
For shapes that gesture their despair
Against the blue sky yonder?
Laughs the dim demon of the cave:
Of one more victim he can rave,
When idlers hither wander.
Within his chasm, the ghost of Rafe
Sits like a mist, when east winds chafe
The muttering sea to anger;
A phantom maiden by his side,
With spell-bound eyes, that open wide
In trance of deathly languor.
Sits like a mist, when east winds chafe
The muttering sea to anger;
A phantom maiden by his side,
With spell-bound eyes, that open wide
In trance of deathly languor.
Time and the waves wash lives away
Like wisps of sea-weed; each to-day
Is drowned in some to-morrow:
And grief has ebb, as well as flow:—
Who shall give back to Norman's Woe
Its unremembered sorrow?
Like wisps of sea-weed; each to-day
Is drowned in some to-morrow:
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Who shall give back to Norman's Woe
Its unremembered sorrow?
Earth writes her ancient anguish out
In solid rock; no dream, no doubt;
Obliterated never.
Man's troubled history who explains?
The mystery of ourselves remains
Forever and forever!
In solid rock; no dream, no doubt;
Obliterated never.
Man's troubled history who explains?
The mystery of ourselves remains
Forever and forever!
An aged sorcerer is the Sea; the years
Reverberate his glamourie in myths
Washed down from unknown shores of time:—the wiles
Of that ensnaring goddess borne in foam
Upon the sands of Paphos; siren-songs
That wise Ulysses dared not trust himself
To listen to unbound; blind shoals and rocks
Where Circe made men beasts; and Proteus' arts;
Rages of Scylla and Charybdis;—myths
Which are but the vague murmurs of a sea
Forever surging in the soul of man.
Reverberate his glamourie in myths
Washed down from unknown shores of time:—the wiles
Of that ensnaring goddess borne in foam
Upon the sands of Paphos; siren-songs
That wise Ulysses dared not trust himself
To listen to unbound; blind shoals and rocks
Where Circe made men beasts; and Proteus' arts;
Rages of Scylla and Charybdis;—myths
Which are but the vague murmurs of a sea
Forever surging in the soul of man.
Still the magician by his sorcery holds
All whom he has enslaved: his grasp is firm;
His chains are riveted; and you are one
With the strange Power that will not let you go.
All whom he has enslaved: his grasp is firm;
His chains are riveted; and you are one
With the strange Power that will not let you go.
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |