A MOTHER TO THE SEA.
You are blue, you are blue like the sky,
Cruel and cold and blue,
And I turn from you, voiceless sea,
To a sky that is voiceless, too.
Upward the vast blue arch,
Downward the blue abyss,
With a line of foam where your lips
Meet in a passionless kiss.
But the silence is breaking my heart,
And tears cannot comfort me
With God in His cold blue sky,
And my boy in the cold blue sea.
THE FEAST OF THE PASSIONS.
It wouldn't be fair to Belshazzar
When speaking of madness and mirth,
To draw from his revel a moral
For conscienceless sin in the earth,
For 'tis certain the King of Chaldea
Took note of the hand on the wall,
But here at the Feast of the Passions
We never take heed at all.
The same gods grin at the banquet—
The idols of silver and gold—
While we drink from the cups of the Temple
As they did in the days of old,
But the finger of God is unheeded,
His warning misunderstood,
As "Mene" is written in lightning,
And "Tekel" inscribed in blood.