Select Poetry

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 8, Issue 397, 26 July 1866, Page 2

Select Poetry

-THE SEA. JTIIE salt wind blows upon my cheek. As it blew a year ago. When twenty boats were crushed among The rocks of Norman’s Woe. "fwas dark then; ’tis light now; And the sails are leaning low. In dreams I pulled the sea-weed o’er, And find a face not his. And hope another tide will be Moro.pityingthan this: The wind turns, the tide turns, — They take what hope there is. Sly life goes on as thine would go, With all its sweetness spilled; Sly God, why should one heart of two Beat on when one is stilled; Through heart-wreck or home-wreck. Thy happy sparrows Build. Though boats go down, men build anew. Whatever winds may blow; If blight be in the wheat one year, ! We trust again and sow; Though grief comes, and changes The sunshine into snow. Some have their dead, where, sweet and soon, The summers bloom and go; The sea withholds my dead,—l walk The bar when tides are low. And wonder the grave-grass Can have the heart to grow. Flow on, O unconsenting sea. And keep my dead below; Though night—o utter night!—soul, Delude thee long, I know. Or Life comes, or Death comes, God leads the eternal flow.