Читать книгу The Aldine, Vol. 5, No. 1., January, 1872 - Various - Страница 2

I stand beside the sea once more;

    Its measured murmur comes to me;

The breeze is low upon the shore,

    And low upon the purple sea.

Across the bay the flat sand sweeps,

    To where the helméd light-house stands

Upon his post, and vigil keeps,

    Far seaward marshaling all the lands.

The hollow surges rise and fall,

    The ships steal up the quiet bay;

I scarcely hear or see at all,

    My thoughts are flown so far away.

They follow on yon sea-bird's track.

    Beyond the beacon's crystal dome;

They will not falter, nor come back,

    Until they find my darkened home.

Ah, woe is me! 'tis scarce a year

    Since, gazing o'er this moaning main,

My thoughts flew home without a fear.

    And with content returned again.

To-day, alas! the fancies dark

    That from my laden bosom flew,

Returning, came into the ark,

    Not with the olive, with the yew.

The ships draw slowly towards the strand,

    The watchers' hearts with hope beat high;

But ne'er again wilt thou touch land—

    Lost, lost in yonder sapphire sky!