I brought her where faint breezes sweep
Through lanes walled in with hedges high,
And sown with luscious grass and deep
At ease the fatted pastures lie.
I gave her my poor cottage home,
The tame face of the countryside—
Who knew the waves' withdrawing foam,
The thunder of the bursting tide.
And day by day did I rejoice
To see her sit beside my door,
Nor knew that in her heart the voice
Of ocean called forever more.
Until the grace I would not give
Death gave. His mighty hand set free
My wild sea-maid, that could not live
Without her waters' liberty.
And I?—To me the fields are dear;
The steadfast earth is home to me.
Yet night by night in dreams I hear
Her spirit call me from the sea.
A STORM AT NIGHT
All night the waves broke in upon the shore
Beneath my window, and I heard the rain
With querulous, weak fingers, evermore
Beating against the pane.
And through the darkness saw—was it the sweep
Of some white sea-bird's wing above the foam,
That fain would cross those waters, wild and deep,
And find its mate and home?
Or was it—oh, dear feet, why should you leave
The halls of Heaven, with all their warmth and light,
To come where winds wail and where waters grieve,
Seeking my door last night?