 | Spindrift |  |
TO MY WIFE.
Like those pale-clustered flowers of barren spray
The restless sea-wind strews along the strand,
That strike no root into the thirsty sand,
But perish as they came: even such as they
The restless sea-wind strews along the strand,
That strike no root into the thirsty sand,
But perish as they came: even such as they
Are the frail verse-wreaths I now offer thee,
Wov'n in waste hours of weariness or pain,
To soothe the trouble of the unresting brain
With dreams of what nor has been—nor may be:
Wov'n in waste hours of weariness or pain,
To soothe the trouble of the unresting brain
With dreams of what nor has been—nor may be:
Mere Spindrift, by the gusts of fancy blown
From the deep, clear, and silent sea of Life,
Where—peerless mother and most perfect wife—
Thou float'st in peace: my heart's true Halcyon.
From the deep, clear, and silent sea of Life,
Where—peerless mother and most perfect wife—
Thou float'st in peace: my heart's true Halcyon.
Yet wilt thou take, and in thy bosom wear
The fragile blooms; that so by Love's fond breath
They may be saved awhile from frosts of death:
Finding a little space, life, warmth, and welcome—there.
The fragile blooms; that so by Love's fond breath
They may be saved awhile from frosts of death:
Finding a little space, life, warmth, and welcome—there.
Dec. 10, 1866.
| Spindrift | |