Wreck

The wind is roaring in the pine to-night.
The demons howling in the chine to-night,
A terrible unrest is mine to-night ;
Wild surges leap the boulder.

There's wreck on the roaring reef below
And wreck in a heart of grief below.
Love's bark, whose flight was very brief, lies low ;
Night's wild whirled gulfs enfold her.

Foam's faery chimes were rung in the morning,
Love floated young and fair in the morning;
On sunny sands was he flung, and lovers clung, in the morning;
Now Night's wild hollows hold him.