 | Poems by James Rhoades |  |
45
A LUCID INTERVAL.
It must have been many years agone
That I stood still here, as I stand to-day,
Just watching for joy how the waves raced on,
And for joy too died in a laugh of spray,
That I stood still here, as I stand to-day,
Just watching for joy how the waves raced on,
And for joy too died in a laugh of spray,
When a man rushed—God! do I see him still?
Ah! well, but it cannot come over again—
Rushed up to me breathless, ‘Behind the hill
Is a ship lost, in sight of the shore full plain.’
Ah! well, but it cannot come over again—
Rushed up to me breathless, ‘Behind the hill
Is a ship lost, in sight of the shore full plain.’
That man may remember the look I gave,
Or perhaps thought it only the shock, the surprise:
Well, the life-boat is out—what hope to save?
Two miles! and they steer for the drowning cries.
Or perhaps thought it only the shock, the surprise:
Well, the life-boat is out—what hope to save?
Two miles! and they steer for the drowning cries.
And many a ship no doubt has sown
Her dead on the floor of the black, blind sea;
But in this—and then God, too, must have known—
Was the love and the dove and the life of me.
Her dead on the floor of the black, blind sea;
But in this—and then God, too, must have known—
Was the love and the dove and the life of me.
| Poems by James Rhoades | |