THE TIDE
Six hours it voiceless sank along the shore
In the soft cloud-girt eve; turned in its bed,
And dreamed of other lands. But when the night
Grew to its stillest, and none knew thereof,
There crept across the world a wind-like sigh—
Sweet breath of waking lips—that rose, and passed,
And died along the night, and rose again
Ineffable. And Ocean knew once more
Her crescent tide-mark with its golden range
Of fretted sands and shell-impearlèd weeds,
And once more, joyous, filled with rolling waves
Her creeks and inland waterways; then paused,
And, wondering at herself, sank back to rest,
And dreamed again the dream that has no end.
SUMMER LIGHTNING
Like a dawn the distant lightning,
Fitful, shadow-crowned,
O’er the twilit ocean brightening
Breaks without a sound.
Softly-fair the clouds are riven
Crimsoning in bliss,
As the heights and depths of heaven
Open to its kiss.
Calm in western lake-like splendour
Floats the star of eve:
All hues opaline and tender
Round about it weave;
And that other crystal ocean
Holds its image clear,
Like a smile with soft emotion
Shining through a tear.
Faintly rings a silver laughter
As the ripples die,
And the rising stars thereafter
Answer, and their cry,
As of love to passion risen,
Passes o’er the strand
From Night’s gloomy eastern prison
To the golden land