"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. The depths heaved round his boat of shell, with sway 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, 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, So far from her own; We know not our pain; When the white cloud reclines On the verge of the sea, I fancy the white cliffs, And dream upon thee; 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. EBB AND FLOW. I WALKED beside the evening sea, But still the legions charged the beach, I homeward turned from out the gloom, It was my heart, that like a sea It said 'dream on,' and 'dream no more.' |