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27
THE CATTLE TRAIN.
PENMAENMAWR.
All light or transient gloom—no hint of storm—White wreaths of foam, born in blue waters, broke
Among the mountain shadows; all bespoke
A summer's day on Mona and the Orme.
My open window overlook'd the Rails,
When, suddenly, a cattle-train went by,
Rapt, in a moment, from my pitying eye,
As from their lowing mates in Irish vales;
Close-pack'd and mute they stood, as close as bees,
Bewilder'd with their fright and narrow room;
'Twas sad to see that meek-eyed hecatomb,
So fiercely hurried past our summer seas,
Our happy bathers, and our fresh sea-breeze,
And hills of blooming heather, to their doom.
28
THE CATTLE TRAIN Continued
HUMAN SORROWS.
Our happy bathers,—pardon my romance!I thought of gladness only, for the tide
Ran sparkling to the land in merry dance;
But, oh! what sorrows haunt our sweet seaside!
Man, child, and woman mourn the wide world o'er;
Yon maiden's snowy foot, that meets the wave,
Has just come faltering from her lover's grave,
Just pass'd that orphan-group upon the shore;
The yacht glides gaily on; but as it nears
The beach, I see a night-black dress on board;
The lonely widow dreams of those three years
Of summer-voyaging with her lost lord:
Too oft, when human figures fill the scene,
We count from woe to woe, with no glad hearts between!
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