ALL'S WELL.
131
From billow to billow the headlong plunging sea
Has tossed them high on the rocks;
Has tossed them high on the rocks;
And the hollow skiff like a child's toy lies on the ledge
This side of the roaring foam,
And up from the valley of death, from the grave's drear edge,
Like ghosts of men they come!
This side of the roaring foam,
And up from the valley of death, from the grave's drear edge,
Like ghosts of men they come!
O sweetly, sweetly shines the sinking sun
And the storm is swept away,
Piled high in the east are the cloud-heaps purple and dun,
And peacefully dies the day.
And the storm is swept away,
Piled high in the east are the cloud-heaps purple and dun,
And peacefully dies the day.
But a sweeter peace falls soft on the grateful souls
In the lonely isle that dwell,
And the whisper and rush of every wave that rolls
Seem murmuring, "All is well."
In the lonely isle that dwell,
And the whisper and rush of every wave that rolls
Seem murmuring, "All is well."
