At Porthcurno

O RUDE cliff-castle pile,
O resonant shell-shore,
Your clear green waters smile
In sunshine as of yore.
Rebuffed from the grave granite rock
With many a frolic water-shock !
Their laughter glads your sand
With delicate white foam,
A dancing light green band
Under a deep blue dome.
It is the same blithe scene
Of wild aerial glee ;
But years have rolled between
My happy past and me !
And yet aloud I call,
In fellowship with all,
I catch my breath for joy
To see the wavelets toy. . . .
Till stabbed to the heart I fall.
Remembering my boy ;
For where the wavelets toy,
He did out-dance the hours.
Out-dance the briny brood.
Arrayed in soft sea-flowers.
While I defied the flood,
At flood-tide of my powers !
My forehead strikes the stone ;
Convulsed with sobs I moan,
Hear voices calling, " Come,
To rest beneath the foam ! "

The day was even as this,
Heaven wore as clear a brow,
Sea and earth one bliss ;
Ah ! what is wanting now ?
The sunshine of the breast.
Youth more blithe than day,
Whose every wild behest
Unwearying limbs obey !
The presence of the child
That made my world so fair ;
From whose frame undefiled
The soul fled otherwhere !
O lilt of playful wave,
O dance of wild green billow.
Winning spells ye have,
Each following his fellow ;
Clash, confound your foam
In your aerial home,
Refluent from the stone
On following wave to run,
Immingling treble laughter
With his that follows after !
And yet surpassing this
Were peals of boyish bliss,
When he danced with you.
And laughed into the blue I
Ah, what a harmony
Were then the earth and sky !
Now too like a knell.
Wanting the master-spell,
Their music seems to fall
On a heart beneath a pall ;
For while live air I quaff,
I seem to hear him laugh
With the breeze and brine,
And, hearing him, I pine.
Yonder is the cot white-walled,
Where I brooded o'er my rhyme,
And the solitude ne'er palled
Amid the fragrance of the thyme
By wild wave and cliff sublime ;
Yet I do not love them less,
Now I feel my loneliness,
Nor brook that hurries toward the Sea,
To hide in His Eternity !
And mine are a few hearts who love
More than wastes of foam that rove !
But, ah, sweet sea ! you conquer me
With your unconquerable glee !
I plunge, do what you will with me !
Every fluctuant foam-blossom.
Glassed within a limpid bosom,
Foamy hair, dishevelled blown
In all the glory of the sun,
How ye race toward the shore
Immingling on a shelly floor,
Labyrinthine lines of light
Dallying with you in your flight,
While the gleaming birds above
Hover over fish that move
In the lucid realms they love.
Oh, how the young air abounds
With happy musical sea-sounds !
Waves are they, or young children's voices ?
The world is young ! my heart rejoices !
And surely he cannot be far
From here where such sweet voices are !
I will follow where you lead,
Flow over me, or wind your weed ;
In a cave I'll learn your rede ;
Where reposing at full length
I may recover youth and strength.