The Story
of Saville
And beg for an alms, a dole, from her too munificent share,—
She could weep in the midst of her happiness, hearing that endless prayer,—
There had been a time she had walked alone by the miserly sea, she said,
And for one pale pearl from its caverns dim herself had begged vainly instead;
She had woven a song, a trifling strain, of that starved and insatiate time,—
Would he hear the thing? she was something gifted, ’twas said, in music and rhyme.
ON THE BEACH.
The ocean is life and the beach
Is time, and days are the waves
That heavily each over each,
Now wild when the equinox raves,
Now languid in summer, do still
Curl green with the coil of a snake,
And ponderous, cruel, and chill,
In laughter and mockery break.
I hoped long ago that a wave
Might bring to me jetsam of price,—
What tapestries silken and brave,
What chests full of Indian spice
I fancied were destined for me
