Poems of the Heart and Home

by Mrs. J. C. Yule

Landward the tide setteth buoyantly breezily,—
Landward the waves ripple sparkling and free,—
Ho, the proud ship, like a thing of life, easily,
Gracefully sweeps o'er the white-crested sea!
In from the far-away lands she is steering now,
Straight for her anchorage, fearless and free,—
Lo, as I gaze, how she seems to be nearing now,
Sun-lighted shores, a still haven, and me!

Landward the tide setteth!—mark my proud argosy
As the breeze flutters her pennons of snow,
Wafting from far the glad mariner's melody
O'er the blue waters in rhythmical flow!
Tell me, oh, soul of mine, what is the freightage fair
'Neath her white wings that she beareth to thee?
Treasures of golden ore, gems from Golconda's shore,
Lo, she is bringing me over, the sea!

* * * * *

Seaward the tide setteth hoarsely and heavily,—
Seaward the tide setteth steady and stern;—
Oh, my proud ship!—she has missed the still haven! see,
Baffled and drifting, far out she is borne!—
Far from the shore, and the weak arms that helplessly,
Wildly, are stretched toward the lessening sail!—
Far, far from shore, and the white hands that hopelessly
Flutter in vain in the loud shrieking gale!

Seaward the tide setteth—oh my rich argosy,
Freighted with treasures ungrasped and unwon!—
Oh, the dark rocks!—the dread crash!—the fierce agony!—
And seaward more madly the tide rushes on!
Gems and red gold won from Earth's richest treasury
Straw the dark floor of the pitiless sea,
Buried for aye—and my wealth-freighted argosy
Fades like the mist from the ocean and me!

ELOISE.

Eloise! Eloise!
It is morn on the seas,
And the waters are curling and flashing;
And our rock-sheltered seat,
Where the waves ever beat
With a cadenced and rhythmical dashing,
Is here—just here,
But I miss thee, dear!
And the sun-beams around me are flashing
O seat, by the lonely sea,
O seat, that she shared with me,
Thou art all unfilled to day!
And the plaintive, grieving main
Hath a moan of hopeless pain
That it had not yesterday.

Eloise! Eloise!
It is noon; and the breeze
Through the shadowy woodland is straying;
And our green, mossy seat,
Where the flowers kissed thy feet
While the zephyrs around thee were playing,
Is here—just here;
But I miss thee, dear!
And the breezes around me are straying.
O seat, by the greenwood tree,
O seat, that she shared with me,
Thou art all unfilled to-day!
And the sighing, shivering leaves
Have a voice like one that grieves
That they had not yesterday.

Eloise! Eloise!
It is eve; and the trees
With the gold of the sunset are glowing;
And our low, grassy seat,
With the brook at its feet
Ever singing, and rippling, and flowing,
Is here—just here;
But I miss thee, dear!
And the sunset is over me glowing.
O seat, by the brooklet free,
O seat, that she shared with me,
Thou art all unfilled to-day!
And the brook, to me alone,
Hath a tender, grieving tone,
That it had not yesterday.

Eloise! Eloise!
It is night on the seas,
And the winds and the waters are sleeping;
And the seat where we prayed,
'Neath our home's blessed shade,
With the soft shadows over us creeping,
Is here-just here;
But I miss thee, dear!
And the drear night around me is sleeping.
O seat, where she prayed of yore,
O seat, where she prays no more,
I am kneeling alone to-night!
And the stern, unyielding grave
Will restore not the gift I gave
To its bosom yesternight.