 | Poems |  |
64
Aldeburg
Once more I watch the pale and writhing lipsOf this old sea that gnaws around the land.
How lonely are the surges and the strand!
The fishermen are gone, and fled the ships;
The billows, that the cruel tempest whips,
Shake their grey manes and plunge along the sand;
Round dying day no stars attendant stand;
Far o'er the foam the floating beacon dips.
When last I wandered here, in childhood's hour,
The sky was blue, the waves were all aglow;
Ah! then my heart unfolded, like a flower
Enisled in innocence; no stormy stower
Of worldly waters, no unfathomed flow
Of passion compassed me with empty woe.
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