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From “The Tent on the Beach”
HER window opens to the bay, | |
| On glistening light or misty gray, | |
| And there at dawn and set of day | |
| In prayer she kneels: | |
| “Dear Lord!” she saith, “to many a home | 5 |
| From wind and wave the wanderers come; | |
| I only see the tossing foam | |
| Of stranger keels. | |
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| “Blown out and in by summer gales, | |
| The stately ships, with crowded sails, | 10 |
| And sailors leaning o’er their rails, | |
| Before me glide; | |
| They come, they go, but nevermore, | |
| Spice-laden from the Indian shore, | |
| I see his swift-winged Isidore | 15 |
| The waves divide. | |
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| “O Thou! with whom the night is day | |
| And one the near and far away, | |
| Look out on yon gray waste, and say | |
| Where lingers he. | 20 |
| Alive, perchance, on some lone beach | |
| Or thirsty isle beyond the reach | |
| Of man, he hears the mocking speech | |
| Of wind and sea. | |
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| “O dread and cruel deep, reveal | 25 |
| The secret which thy waves conceal, | |
| And, ye wild sea-birds, hither wheel | |
| And tell your tale. | |
| Let winds that tossed his raven hair | |
| A message from my lost one bear,— | 30 |
| Some thought of me, a last fond prayer | |
| Or dying wail! | |
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| “Come, with your dreariest truth shut out | |
| The fears that haunt me round about; | |
| O God! I cannot bear this doubt | 35 |
| That stifles breath. | |
| The worst is better than the dread; | |
| Give me but leave to mourn my dead | |
| Asleep in trust and hope, instead | |
| Of life in death!” | 40 |
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| It might have been the evening breeze | |
| That whispered in the garden trees, | |
| It might have been the sound of seas | |
| That rose and fell; | |
| But, with her heart, if not her ear, | 45 |
| The old loved voice she seemed to hear: | |
| “I wait to meet thee: be of cheer, | |
| For all is well!” | |
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