Poems (Howard)/Watch Hill
Watch Hill.
But yesterday the gayest throng That ever sojourned by the sea, With billows wrestled, brave and strong, Or shone in festal halls, where song And minuet held revelry.
O'er watery courses flying yachts, Competitors fraternal, sped; Their "logs" recording wondrous knots, Till, far from view, but meager dots The overstraining vision led.
But crafty shark and monster whale May now disport where these have been, Unterrified by gay taffrail Of pleasure-craft whose pennon sail Some landsman's hand hath gathered in.
But yesterday the invalid, As gazing o'er the sea's expanse, Would fain have made his grave amid Its mysteries, forever hid From cold unsympathetic glance.
Beneath as lovely sunset skies As Oriental lands may claim, Chance lovers breathed regretful sighs That ere another morn should rise, The parting word their lips must frame.
To-day, where are the multitude From Earth's remotest corners met,Who followed each capricious mood That restless fancy might obtrude, As whimsical as gay coquette?
All, all are fled, deserted now Are sea and shore and glistening bay; Forsaken Watch Hill's lonely browConfronts the elements that bow To none but their Creator's sway.
In solitude one walks the shore But yesterday by thousands trod, And with a thrill unknown before In Ocean's smile and Ocean's roar, Beholds the majesty of God.