Part 12 (1/2)

IV.

There is a glamour all about the bay, As if the nymphs of Greece had tarried here.

The sands are golden, and the rocks appear Crested with silver; and the breezes play s.n.a.t.c.hes of song they humm'd when far away, And then are hush'd, as if from sudden fear.

V.

They think of thee. They hunt; they meditate.

They will not quit the sh.o.r.e till they have seen The very spot where thou did'st stand serene In all thy beauty; and of me they prate, Knowing I love thee. And, like one elate, The grand old sea remembers what hath been.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

VI.

How many hours, how many days we met Here on the beach, in that delirious time When all the waves appear'd to break in rhyme.

Life was a joy, and love was like a debt Paid and repaid in kisses--good to get, And good to lose--unh.o.a.rded, yet sublime.

VII.

We wander'd here. We saw the tide advance, We saw it ebb. We saw the widow'd sh.o.r.e Waiting for Ocean with its organ roar, Knowing that, day by day, through happy chance, She would be wooed anew, amid the dance Of bridal waves high-bounding as before.

VIII.

And I remember how, at flush of morn, Thou didst depart alone, to find a nook Where none could see thee; where a lover's look Were profanation worse than any scorn; And how I went my way, among the corn, To wait for thee beside the Shepherd's brook.

IX.

And lo! from out a cave thou didst emerge, Sweet as thyself, the flower of Womankind.

I know 'twas thus; for, in my secret mind, I see thee now. I see thee in the surge Of those wild waves, well knowing that they urge Some idle wish, untalk'd-of to the wind.

X.

I think the beach was thankful to have known Thy warm, white body, and the blessedness Of thy first s.h.i.+ver; and I well can guess How, when thy limbs were toss'd and overthrown, The sea was pleased, and every smallest stone, And every wave, was proud of thy caress.

XI.

A maiden diving, with dishevell'd hair, Sheer from a rock; a syren of the deep Call'd into action, ere a wave could leap Breast-high to daunt her; Daphne, by a prayer, Lured from a forest for the sea to bear-- This were a dream to fill a poet's sleep.

XII.

This were a thing for Phoebus to have eyed; And he did eye it. Yea, the Deathless One Did eye thy beauty. It was madly done.

He saw thee in the rising of the tide.