Who speaks through the dark night, And lull of the wind? "Tis the sound of the pine-leaves And sea-waves behind! The dead girl is silent- And her pulse beats no quicker, The small hand that trembled Lies patient and folded, And colder than stone. Like the white blossoms falling So she in her beauty Sank mournful and pale. Yet I loved her! I utter Such words by her grave, As I would not have spoken Her last breath to save, Of her love the angels In heaven might tell, 'T was well that the white ones, Shut out from her new life Else, sure as I stand here, She would leave for my darkness ELIZABETH H. WHITTIER. THE ECHO SPIRIT. CHEQUERED With woven shadows as I lay Drowsed into silence by the noon-tide beam. Of sea-gulls, whilst one foot in careless sweep Lulled by the hush-song of the dreamy deep WILLIAM ALLINGHAM. CALM. 'Tis a dull, sullen day, the dull beach o'er In rippling curves the ebbing ocean flows; Along each tiny crest that nears the shore A line of soft green shadow rises, glides, and goes. The tide recedes, the flat smooth beach grows bare, - More faint the low sweet plashing on my ears, Yet still I watch the dimpling shadows fair, What channel needs our faith, except the eyes? New beauties dawn before the old have died. Trust thou thy joys in keeping of the Power Will ripple newer beauty to thy strand. ANONYMOUS. THE EXILE. THE Swallow with summer Thy ports will contain, There's many that weep there, We know not our pain; If death is between us, When the white cloud reclines On the verge of the sea, I fancy the white cliffs, But the cloud spreads its wings HOOD. THE TWO OCEANS. Two seas amid the night In the moonshine roll and sparkle, Now spread in the silver light, Now sadden, and wail, and darkle. The one has a billowy motion, And from land to land it gleams; The other is Sleep's wide ocean, And its glimmering waves are dreams. The one with murmur and roar Bears fleets round coast and islet; The other, without a shore, Ne'er knew the track of a pilot. STERLING. |