TRIBUTARY STANZAS
To a young officer of the United States Navy, lost at sea.
BY HENRY THOMPSON.
I shed the warm tear still for thee,
Friend of boyhood infancy;
And memory delights to view
The sunny haunts our childhood knew.
Thy form in midnight's hallow'd sleep
Comes back, its promis'd vow to keep;
But ah! too soon the visions end
That image thee! my boyhood friend.
Long I've wept for thee in sorrow!
Long I've vainly striv'd to borrow
The thought that life doth still remain
To bring thee back to me again.
And years have fled away with me,
Since thou wert shrouded in the sea;
Since thou wert laid beneath the foam
You lov'd to call your only home.
And thou art now beneath its breast,
In the deep coral grave of rest;
And long the wave will kiss the shore
That thou wilt visit—never more!
But when from the deep, rocky bed
The sea gives up its mighty dead,
We'll meet where ocean cannot part
The feeling and the faithful heart.
Till then, sleep on in thy ocean grave,
And long I'll love the murm'ring wave
Because it comes from the distant sea,
To whisper something still of thee!
Alabama, Oct. 1836.