"And here be I, my son, thrown up
Like corpses from the sea,
Ships, stars, winds, tempests, pirates past,
Yet leetle Will I be!"
He said no more, that sailorman,
But in a reverie
Stared like the figure of a ship
With painted eyes to sea.
THE PHANTOM
"Upstairs in the large closet, child,
This side the blue room door,
Is an old Bible, bound in leather,
Standing upon the floor;
"Go with this taper, bring it me;
Carry it so, upon your arm;
It is the book on many a sea
Hath stilled the waves' alarm."
Late the hour, dark the night,
The house is solitary;
Feeble is a taper's light
To light poor Ann to see.
Her eyes are yet with visions bright
Of sylph and river, flower and fay,
Now through a narrow corridor
She goes her lonely way.
Vast shadows on the heedless walls
Gigantic loom, stoop low:
Each little hasty footfall calls
Hollowly to and fro.
In the cold solitude her heart
Remembers sorrowfully
White winters when her mother was
Her loving company.
Now in the dark clear glass she sees
A taper, mocking hers,—
A phantom face of light blue eyes,
Reflecting phantom fears.