Words by the Waters

Why dost thou wait and watch the gloomy shore,
Where the rocks darken and the surges roar, —
While down the steep the foamy cataract raves,
And rolls dissolved amid the wilderness of waves ?

Lift up thine eyes along the distant tide,
Where the glad waters glisten as they glide :
The ocean-plains ! how beautiful they be —
Lo ! Heaven itself comes down to sojourn on the sea !

Ah, no ! for thoughts like mine — too softly bright —
That scene is touched with all too gentle light ;
Fair visions haunt those waves — sweet dreams arise
And billows bathed in glory, bound to meet the skies !

Gloom, gloom ! for me — the mountain clothed in cloud,
The shore of tempests when the storm is loud,
Where wild winds rush, and broken waters roll,
And all is dark and stern, like my own wintry soul !

What have I, silvery scene, to do with thee ?
Mirror of Heaven ! thou glad and glorious sea,
Thou dost but mock thy wave-worn wanderer's gaze
With that smooth prophecy of far-off lovelier days !