Sea Poems Part 9

Pa.s.sAGE

A dark sail, Like a wild-goose wing, Where the sunset was.

The moon soon will silver its sinewy flight Thro the night watches, And the far flight Of those immortal migrants, The ever-returning stars.

ALEEN

The long line of the foaming coast Is m.u.f.fled by the fog's gray ghost.

I cross the league of sea between And lift the latch and kiss Aleen.

She throws a log upon the fire.

I draw her to me, nigh and nigher.

She does not know what a brief time Ago it was my arms held--crime.

The surf is beating on the sh.o.r.e.

We hear our own heart-beatings more.

She speaks of _him_ and my reply Is silence: does she wonder why?

"I do not love him: have no fear,"

Her whisper is, against my ear.

At last, "I have no fear," say I.

She starts, as at a wild-beast's cry.

And then she sees red on my coat.

A still-born cry throbs in her throat.

The fog sweeps by the window pane.

Her sight is fixed on one dull stain.

I rise and light my pipe and go, Leaving her standing, staring so.

The wind means storm, I think, to-night: But more than that will make her white.

And yet had it been yesterday She said those words, I still could pray.

There would be still a G.o.d above-- For two, now overwhelmed, to love!

TO A SOLITARY SEA-GULL

Lone white gull with sickle wings, You reap for the heart inscrutable things: Sorrow of mists and surf of the sh.o.r.e, Winds that sigh of the nevermore; Fret of foam and flurry of rain, Swept far over the troubled tide; Maths of mystery and grey pain The sea's voice ever yields, beside.

Lone white gull, you reap for the heart Life's most sad and inscrutable part.

INEFFABLE THINGS

The little song-sparrow is gone And the summer is nearly ended, The rill of his song was a happy rift In the surging sound of the sea.

The swallow is lingering on, And the silvery swift sandpiper, And I--tho I know my saddened heart Has lost an ineffable thing, That summer no more can bring.

With the first bay-leaves that flung Their scent to me by the billows, I twined some faith, some trust, As glad as the sparrow's song.

And the terns that darted among The tides seemed weaving for me Impalpable wings of peace and hope-- That now have taken flight Beyond the day and the night.

Ah, Life, you have known my plea For sun and the tide of fortune, For winds to waken my sail and bear Me joyously over the world.

Know too how much of your fog And storm and rain I will suffer, If only you do not sweep from me The dear ineffable things, To which your fragrance clings.

THE SONG OF A SEA-FARER

Many are on the sea to-day With all sails set.

The tide rolls in a restive gray, The wind blows wet.

The gull is weary of his wings, And I am weary of all things.

Heavy upon me longing lies, My sad eyes gaze Across sad leagues that sink and rise And sink always.

My life has sunk and risen so, I'd have it cease awhile to flow.

WAVES

The evening sails come home With twilight in their wings.

The harbour-light across the gloam Springs; The wind sings.

The waves begin to tell The sea's night-sorrow o'er, Weaving within their ancient spell More Than earth's lore.

The rising moon wafts strange Low lures across the tide, On which my dim thoughts seem to range, Stride Upon stride,

Until, with flooding thrill, They seem at last to blend With waves that from the Eternal Will Wend, Without end.

IN A STORM

(_To a Petrel_)