 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
THE FOG-BELL.
The vessels are sunk in the mist;
And hist!
Through the veil of the air
Throbs a sound,
Like a wail of despair,
That dies into stillness profound.
And hist!
Through the veil of the air
Throbs a sound,
Like a wail of despair,
That dies into stillness profound.
All muffled in gray is the sea;
Not a tree
Sees its neighbor beside
Or before;
And across the blank tide,
Hark! that sob of an echo once more!
Not a tree
Sees its neighbor beside
Or before;
And across the blank tide,
Hark! that sob of an echo once more!
'Tis the fog-bell's imploring, wild knell!
It is well
For the sailors who hear;
But its toll
Thrills the night with a fear:—
To what doom drifts the rudderless soul!
It is well
For the sailors who hear;
But its toll
Thrills the night with a fear:—
To what doom drifts the rudderless soul!
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |