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Yet more, the Depths have more! - Thy waves have roll'd
Above the cities of the world gone by! Sand hath filled up the palaces of old,
Seaweed o'ergrown the halls of revelry! Dash o'er them Ocean! in thy scornful play, Man yields them to decay!
Yet more! the Billows and the Depths have more! High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast! They hear not now the booming waters roar,
The battle-thunders will not break their rest. Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave! Give back the true and brave!
Give back the lost and lovely! - Those for whom The place was kept at board and hearth so long, The prayer went up through midnight's breathless
And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song! Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown, -But all is not thine own!
To thee the love of woman hath gone down,
O'er youth's bright locks and beauty's flowery crown ;
THE LITTLE BEACH-BIRD.
THOU little bird, thou dweller by the sea,
Along the waves dost thou fly?
O! rather, Bird, with me
Through the fair land rejoice!
Thy flitting form comes ghostly, dim, and pale, As driven by a beating storm at sea ;
Thy cry is weak and scared, As if thy mates had shared The doom of us. Thy wailWhat does it bring to me?
Thou call'st along the sand, and haunt'st the surge,
With the motion and the roar
One spirit did ye urge
The Mystery The Word.
Of thousands, thou, both sepulchre and pall,
Then turn thee, little bird, and take thy flight Where the complaining sea shall sadness bring Thy spirit never more.
Come, quit with me the shore,
For gladness and the light
R. H. DANA.
SLEET, and Hail, and Thunder!
Tinge the sullen wave —
Winds that like a demon
From his humble dwelling
From that weeping woman
From the frowning skies
From the urchin pining
Let broad leagues dissever
Him from yonder foam;O God! to think man ever Comes too near his Home!
THE OCEAN'S MOAN.
πᾶσαν δ ̓ ἐπλησας φωνας ἄλα. Moschus.
STREAMS that sweep where thousands languish
Seaward bear each cry of anguish
Hence it is that ever Ocean
Hath so sad, so wild a moan; Calm, or lashed in wild commotion, Therefore is its dirge-like tone.
Moaning for the dead and dying
With its ever voiceful waves,