By the Sea

I.
The burning golden Rose of the Day
Droops down to the Western Sea ;
And the amber and purple flush of the sky
And the crimson glow of the sea
Ebb, ebb away, — fade, fade and die ;
While the earth, all mantled in shadowy grey,
Washes her brow with a restful sigh
In the cool sweet dews of the gloaming.

Then the shining silver Lily of the Night
Opens broad her leaves divine,
Afloat on the azure hyaline
Of the heavenly sea ; and her purest light
Kisses the earth that dreaming lies
In a still, enchanted sleeping ;
While the heavens with their countless starry eyes
Still watch are keeping.
The Earth loves the golden Rose of the Day,
From which she distils the fiery wine
Of immortal youth and magnificent might ;
But the Sea loves the silver Lily of the Night,
For her beams are as wands of a holier sway,
Whose spell brings the trance divine :
The Rose for Life's feast and the festal array,
The Lily for Death's shrine.

II.
" The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores."
— KEATS.
The earth lay breathless in a fever-swoon
Beneath the burning noon,
Sun-stricken, dazed with light and sick with heat :
Then came the waters from the cool midsea
Trooping up blithe and free,
And fanned her brow with airs so fresh and sweet
And crept about her gently and caressed
Her broad unheaving breast
With the white cincture of a magic zone ;
Bathing and swathing her faint limbs, that were
In the fierce sun-fire bare,
With lucid liquid folds of rich green purple strown.
Then as the sun went sinking to his rest
Down the enamoured west,
The waves were leaving the calm earth to dreams ;
Bearing the smirch of her long day's turmoil,
The sweat of her fierce toil,
The sultry breaths and languid feverous streams ;
Bearing all far away, and as they went
Whispering with blithe content,
To drown and cleanse them in the pure midsea :
The while the earth all dewy sweet and clean,
And drowsily serene
Beneath the star-dewed heavens might slumber safe and free.

III.
A BATHING SNATCH.

O Sun lay down thy golden bridge
Across the waters clear !
O foam flash round each rock and ridge
That soon shall disappear !
O tide swell up a full spring-tide
Upon the shingly shore !
For, oh, I love thy surge-sweep wide
And long-resoundinsr roar !

IV.
A LAMENT.
Leafless and brown are the trees ;
And the wild waste rocks are brown,
Which the wan green sea so stealthily
Comes creeping up to drown ;
And the north-west breeze blows chill,
And the sky is cold and pale ;
And nevermore from this desolate shore
Shall I watch my true-love's sail.

V.
The stars came gliding out of the sea
To gaze on the sleeping city,
With a tremulous light in their glances bright
Of wonderful love and pity.

The breeze was breathing its olden song
In a drowsy murmurous chanting ;
While the noble bay, with its moonlight spray,
Kept time in a slumbrous panting.

The city couched in a deep repose
All toil, all care suspended ;
The roar and the strife of its turbid life
In the calm of nature blended.

Alas ! I sighed with a weary sigh,
That all the sin and sorrow,
Now dreaming there, so calm and fair,
Must wake afresh to-morrow.

Would that the whole might thus rest on,
Entranced, for ever sleeping ;
The sea and the sky, and the stars on high,
And those myriads born for weeping !