 | English Roses |  |
A SOLITARY SEA.
The sun comes up, the sun goes down,
The wild wind makes a song,
The sky is one great iron frown,
And yet I drift along.
No sight of one familiar change,
No glimpse of gallant ship,
No resting in the awful range,
No sound of fellowship.
The sullen waters are my throne
Of torment as in hell,
While forth I ever drift along
On the dumb dreadful swell.
The wild wind makes a song,
The sky is one great iron frown,
And yet I drift along.
No sight of one familiar change,
No glimpse of gallant ship,
No resting in the awful range,
No sound of fellowship.
The sullen waters are my throne
Of torment as in hell,
While forth I ever drift along
On the dumb dreadful swell.
The sun goes down, the sun comes up
But doth not hear my plea,
And with its red and angry cup
It drinks the bitter sea.
No bird is in the boding air,
No creature in the deep,
A horror bleaches even my hair
And racks my haunted sleep.
About the awful waste I toss,
Beneath a scornful sky,
And every moment is a cross
Of mute eternity.
But doth not hear my plea,
And with its red and angry cup
It drinks the bitter sea.
No bird is in the boding air,
No creature in the deep,
A horror bleaches even my hair
And racks my haunted sleep.
378
Beneath a scornful sky,
And every moment is a cross
Of mute eternity.
The sun comes up, the sun goes down,
And one are day and night,
The curse of silence is my crown,
The darkness is my light.
The broken surge on which I hang
Is like a living death,
But not so cruel as the pang
Of each undying breath.
Over the unmapt sea I drive
Unmarked by friend or foe,
And when I would not still survive—
A solitary woe.
And one are day and night,
The curse of silence is my crown,
The darkness is my light.
The broken surge on which I hang
Is like a living death,
But not so cruel as the pang
Of each undying breath.
Over the unmapt sea I drive
Unmarked by friend or foe,
And when I would not still survive—
A solitary woe.
The sun goes down, the sun comes up
And fear with probing dart
Comes in its savage glee to sup
Upon my haunted heart.
No vision of a friendly sail,
No shimmer of a shoal,
I pass (and hear no pilot hail)
A pilgrim without goal.
My ocean has no bar or bound,
And I possess no chart
Except the solemn ceaseless round
Of terror in my heart.
And fear with probing dart
Comes in its savage glee to sup
Upon my haunted heart.
No vision of a friendly sail,
No shimmer of a shoal,
I pass (and hear no pilot hail)
A pilgrim without goal.
My ocean has no bar or bound,
And I possess no chart
Except the solemn ceaseless round
Of terror in my heart.
The sun comes up, the sun goes down
And one are night and day,
I cannot die, I may not drown,
I only ebb away.
I merely know that I must drift
Through endless weary space,
And shadows that will never shift,
But find no resting place.
Around a shoreless world of waves
On every side I see,
And all are grim and hungry graves
But none alas! for me.
And one are night and day,
I cannot die, I may not drown,
I only ebb away.
I merely know that I must drift
Through endless weary space,
And shadows that will never shift,
But find no resting place.
Around a shoreless world of waves
On every side I see,
379
But none alas! for me.
The sun goes down, the sun comes up,
Sometimes the sea is still,
But fear forbidding me to stop
Grinds in its fiery mill.
The wind that rises with the sun
At evening will be gone,
And every life at last is done,
But I go sailing on.
A tortured part of wave and wind
I must for ever sweep
With them in bondage deaf and blind,
Across a homeless deep.
Sometimes the sea is still,
But fear forbidding me to stop
Grinds in its fiery mill.
The wind that rises with the sun
At evening will be gone,
And every life at last is done,
But I go sailing on.
A tortured part of wave and wind
I must for ever sweep
With them in bondage deaf and blind,
Across a homeless deep.
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