Etchings in Verse (Underhill)/Fatality

by Andrew Findlay Underhill

FATALITY.

SONNET.

BESIDE a sea whose white, and shelving shore Creeps down in level wastes of dreary sand, I watch the hungry waves, and parchèd land.And there the surf's surceaseless nevermoreCries out to heaven in a sullen roar That fills the sun-lit air with tumult grand.Far out to sea, home bound from foreign strand,The white winged ships, rich laden with their storeOf treasure from the shores where love doth dwell,Sail toward the harbor without fear or dread.I stand—I wait. Oh! God that sounding knellShrieks to the skies that love and hope are dead!Safe sailed my bark; but in the harbor's swell,Without a warning, sank like solid lead!