Sea-Visions
Nor answered he, but down his oars he flung,
With hollow sound that smote the silent air,
Then from his bench, still sternly mute, he sprung,
And, scaling the tall shipside, joined us there.
With hollow sound that smote the silent air,
Then from his bench, still sternly mute, he sprung,
And, scaling the tall shipside, joined us there.
"Bring wine; I thirst," he said in low, deep tone;
And wine and food we bring, and round him crowd
To hear his tale; yet answer made he none—
As one enwrapt, till "Oh!" he cried aloud—
And wine and food we bring, and round him crowd
To hear his tale; yet answer made he none—
As one enwrapt, till "Oh!" he cried aloud—
"When a great ship goes down into the deep.
Who, who shall guess how many hearts on shore,
That once prayed for her, groan in agony
Over the precious load of lives she bore?
Who, who shall guess how many hearts on shore,
That once prayed for her, groan in agony
Over the precious load of lives she bore?
"And when unknown her fate, but not unguest,
Her being is with the invisible,
Who shall portray the yearnings of the breast
That craves to know what none returns to tell?
Her being is with the invisible,
Who shall portray the yearnings of the breast
That craves to know what none returns to tell?
"'She shall come back to me, or I will die!'
So wildly vowed I, as from morn till eve
I looked unto the sea with asking eyes,
And heart that would not in its loss believe.
So wildly vowed I, as from morn till eve
I looked unto the sea with asking eyes,
And heart that would not in its loss believe.
"Such my last thought before my head was laid
Upon a pillow which could long bestow
No rest until, by watching overweighed,
A sleep came o'er me with its dreams of woe,
Upon a pillow which could long bestow
No rest until, by watching overweighed,
A sleep came o'er me with its dreams of woe,
59
