Ah me! I shall not waken soon
From dreams of such divinity!
A spirit singing ‘neath the moon
To me. Wild sea-spray driven of the storm
Is not so wildly white as she,
Who beckoned with a foam-white arm
To me. With eyes dark green, and golden-green
Long locks that rippled drippingly,
Out of the green wave she did lean
To me. And sang; till Earth and Heaven seemed
A far, forgotten memory,
And more than Heaven in her who gleamed
On me. Sleep, sweeter than love’s face or home;
And death’s immutability;
And music of the plangent foam,
For me! Sweep over her! with all thy ships,
With all thy stormy tides, O sea!
The memory of immortal lips
For me!
Seasons Of Grief
Shall I wither and fall like an autumn leaf, From this deep sorrow – from this painful grief? How can I go on or find