A Child of the People :: :: University of Virginia Library

Beyond the harbour bar the sun goes down
Into a bank of vapour, rising brown,
And thrusting shadowy arms into the sky;
The church-vane glistens last in the grey town.

Seaward the waters run their scurrying race;
Billows curl upward oftener with white face;
And that long streak where broken waves leap high
The limit of the ocean, nears apace.

The salt spray, born of clashing wave and wave,
Anon a land-wind to the westward drave,
And tangled beds of sea-weed drifted by,
And strong-winged sea-gulls through the spray-showers clave.

The last faint gleam dies off the steadfast vane;
The risen vapour thickens into rain;
The sky stoops downward to the leaden sea,
Veiling the land. Will he see land again?

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Drifting away upon the ebbing tide,
Oarless, toward an ocean, opening wide
Beyond the bar, o'er which ev'n now in glee
Waves toss him. Only God can be his guide.

Over the bar waves tumble fierce and hoar;
Rude reaches stretch unto a far-off shore,
And wandering tempests rage eternally;
For him the sun shall smite the vane no more!