On the lonely ledges of Appledore
I listen again to the ocean’s song,
And lo! in its music I hear once more
The North Wind’s clarion, loud and long.
In that solemn refrain that never shall end
The murmurs of swaying fir-trees blend,
The brooklet’s merry ripple and rush,
The evening hymn of the hermit thrush,
The undertone of the mountain pine,—
The deep sweet voice of a love divine.