322 CATHERINE A. WARFIELD. [1840-50.
Doth that slender cord, as it threads the waves, Stretch past the portals of mighty caves ? Places of splendor where jewels gleam In the glare of the blue phosphoric stream Shed by those living lamps that grow In the lofty roof and the walls of snow ; And where the kings of the weltering brine Hold their wild revels — by throne and shrine.
We follow fast on thy path of fire
With a dreaming fancy — oh, mystic wire;
We see the mountains and valleys gray
With plants that know not the upper day —
We see the fissures that grimly lie
Where the wounded whale dives down to
die —
And more! we see, what hath stirred us
more,
The wrecks that checker the ocean floor —
Ships that full freighted with life and gold,
Suddenly sank to a doom untold ;
Galleons that floating from haughty Spain,
Reached not the haven of home again ;
Martial vessels of power and pride
Shattered and mounted and carnage dyed;
And giant steamers that stemmed the seas
Whose fate is with ocean mysteries.
We know that our country's flag is there,
And many a form of her brave and fair —
Dost thou keep them safely, oh ! lower deep,
In their changeless beauty and solemn sleep ?
Or are they given to the dark decay
Of the charnel-house and the bed of clay ?
'Tis a holy charge that thou hast in trust —
Our stately vessels — our sacred dust !
Full many a message of haste and love
Shall quiver the broken mast above,
Or flash by those shapes, erect and pale.
With loaded feet and with shrouding sail,
That "stand and wait" without hope or
dread,
For the great sea to give up its dead —
When those long parted by land and wave
Shall meet in the glory beyond the grave.
Sad thoughts are these that will have their
hour.
Let them pass in the tide of exulting power!
In the stream of praise and the anthem
free.
To the mighty Maker of earth and sea,
Who hath granted skill to a finite race,
To conquer time and to cancel space —
And through a human hand hath thrown
His grappling-iron from zone to zone.
THE SHADOW OF A TOMB.
When earth's pervading vanity, Its gloss of empty state. Fade from my darkened heart and eye, And leave me desolate ; When phantom-like the dancers pass Withm the echoing hall, And darkness o'er the sparkling mass Seems gathering like a pall ;
When on the flatterer's honied lip
The words seem changed to sneers,
And darkly o'er my spirit sweep
The memories of years ;
When seems the present but a dream,
A mirage vain to be.
Then breaks my soul its bondage dim.
And lives again in thee.
In thee, the lost, the beautiful,
The true, the proud, the just :
In thee, whose ear is cold and dull.
Whoso stately form is dust ;
Aye! darkly, coldlj^ to my heart,
"Wliere anguish inly yearns,
The consciousness of what thou wert.
Of what thou art, returns !
