 | Passion-Flowers |  |
110
MY SEA-WARD WINDOW.
The sweet moon rules the east to-night,
To show the sun she, too, can shine—
From his forsaken cell of night
She builds herself a jewelled shrine.
To show the sun she, too, can shine—
From his forsaken cell of night
She builds herself a jewelled shrine.
From my lone window forth I look
Where the grim headlands point to sea,
And think how out between them passed
The ship that bore my friend from me.
Where the grim headlands point to sea,
And think how out between them passed
The ship that bore my friend from me.
A track of silvery splendor leads
To where my straining sight was staid;
It might be there our two souls met,
And vows of earnest import made.
To where my straining sight was staid;
It might be there our two souls met,
And vows of earnest import made.
111
But then, the Autumn's noontide glow
O'er the still sea stretched far and wide,
While kneeling, watching from the cliffs,
‘My friend is dear to me!’ I cried.
O'er the still sea stretched far and wide,
While kneeling, watching from the cliffs,
‘My friend is dear to me!’ I cried.
My little children, dancing, cried,
‘Why do you kneel, and gaze so far?’
‘I kneel to bless my parting friend,
And even ye forgotten are.’
‘Why do you kneel, and gaze so far?’
‘I kneel to bless my parting friend,
And even ye forgotten are.’
And one might ask, ‘What boots this song,
Sung lonely to yon wintry skies?’
It leads me, by a holier light,
Where Memory's solemn comfort lies.
Sung lonely to yon wintry skies?’
It leads me, by a holier light,
Where Memory's solemn comfort lies.
| Passion-Flowers | |