Poems (E. L. F.)/The watcher
THE WATCHER.
He came not; and the lonely night,
With its dim clouds, gathered near;
And I watched till the aching pang of sight
Was quenched in the glistening tear.
With its dim clouds, gathered near;
And I watched till the aching pang of sight
Was quenched in the glistening tear.
And I list for the distant sound and low,
Of the oar on the ocean wave;
For there is a calm on the waters now,
As deep as the silent grave.
Of the oar on the ocean wave;
For there is a calm on the waters now,
As deep as the silent grave.
Yet I hear no sound but my own heart-beat
Throb on the midnight air;
And the one wild wish that we may meet,
Is hushed in a voiceless prayer.
Throb on the midnight air;
And the one wild wish that we may meet,
Is hushed in a voiceless prayer.
Oh, maiden! why dost thou tarry there?
Hath the wave no tale for thee!
Let it shriek forth with a wild despair,
And its dirge, eternity.
Hath the wave no tale for thee!
Let it shriek forth with a wild despair,
And its dirge, eternity.
For the bark went down, and the waters rose,
Encircling each spirit's strife,
And the stream flowed on with a calm repose,
Unheeding that waste of life.
Encircling each spirit's strife,
And the stream flowed on with a calm repose,
Unheeding that waste of life.