Etchings in Verse (Underhill)/Fatality

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4666807Etchings in Verse — FatalityAndrew 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 nevermore
Cries 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 store
Of treasure from the shores where love doth dwell,
Sail toward the harbor without fear or dread.
I stand—I wait. Oh! God that sounding knell
Shrieks 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!