CONTENTS.
TO
HUGH GRAHAM, Esq.,
TO WHOSE
ENCOURAGEMENT, TASTE AND ENTERPRISE
THE AUTHOR
IS LARGELY INDEBTED
FOR
WHATEVER OF PUBLIC FAVOR HE ENJOYS,
THIS VOLUME
IS
Gratefully Dedicated.
T H E S N O W F L A K E
AND OTHER POEMS.
THE SNOWFLAKE.
Fierce Neptune’s daughter, beneath the water,
In grottoes cool dwelt I,
And, laughing, hid in the seashell’s lid,
As fishes arrowed by.
My feet were free to the undersea;
I played amidst its gloom,
And in the deep where the mermaids weep
Above the hero’s tomb,
Where the sea snake strips dainty maiden lips
Of kisses once so warm,
And the lifeless child, by the eddies wild,
Is torn from the mother’s arm.
The foam-browed billow my head would pillow
Upon its bosom fair,
While the restless sweep of the moon-led deep
Would drift us here and there.
I oft would float in the dainty boat
The Nautilus oared for me,
Out, far, far out, where a noisy rout
Of breakers leapt in glee;
Or further urge to the world’s dim verge,
Where heaven meets the wave,
And the seagull’s wing was the only thing
To follow us was brave.
Then called by the blast, as it glided past,
I would turn and clap my hands,
As the waves were tossed on the tropic coast,
And furrowed the silver sands.