SORROW ON THE SEA.

Kumara Times, Issue 1484, 30 June 1881, Page 2

SORROW ON THE SEA.

"There is sorrow on the .sea; it cannot be

quiet."—Jer. Aix. 23,

The following fine poem, written by the late Captain M. A. S. Hare, of the Eurydice, in a friend's album some years since will be read with tnouruful interest at the present time while the loss of the ill-fated Tararna is still fresh in the recollection of our readers. It is from the Naval and Military Gazette :

I stood on the shore of the beautiful .sea, As the billows were roaming wild and free ; Onward they came with unfailing force, Then backward turned in their restless

course ; Ever and ever sounded their roar, Foaming and dashing against the shore ; Ever and ever they rose and fell, With heaving and sighing and mighty swell ; And deep seemed calling aloud to deep, Lest the murmuring waves should drop to sleep. In summer and winter, by night and by fay, Thro' cloud and sunshine holding their

way ; Oh! when shall the ocean's troubled

breast Calmly and quietly sink into rest ? Oh ! when shall the waves' wild murmuring cease, And the mighty waters be hushed to peace 1 It cannot bf^quiet—it cannot rest: There must be heaving on ocean's breast, The tide must ebb, and the tide must

flow, Whilst the changing seasons come and go. Still from the depths of the hidden store There are treasures tossed up along the shore ; Tossed by the billows—then seized again, Carried away by the rushing main. Oh ! strangely glorious and beautiful sea ! Sounding for ever mysteriously, Why are thy billows still rolling on, With their wild and sad and musical

tone 1 Why is there never repose for thee ? Why slumberest thou not, oh mighty sea ? Then the ocean's voice I seemed to hear, Mournfully, solemnly—sounding near, Like a wail sent up from the caves below, Fraught with dark memories of human

woe, Telling of loved ones buried there, Of the dying shriek and the dying prayer; Tolling of hearts still watching in vain, For those who shall never come again ; Of the widow's groan, the orphan's cry, And the mother's speechless agony. Oh, no, the ocean can never rest

With such secrets hidden within its

breast. There is sorrow written upon the sea, And dark and stormy its waves must be ; It cannot be quiet, it cannot sleep, That dark, relentless, and stormy deep. But a day will come, a blessed day, When earthly sorrow shall pass away ; When the hour of anguish shall turn to

peace, And even the roar of the waves shall cease.

Then out from the deepest and darkest bed Old Ocean shall render up her dead, And, freed from the weight of human

woes, Shall quickly sink in her last repose. No sorrow shall ever be written then On the depths of the sea or the hearts of

men, But heaven and earth renewed shall shine, Still clothed in glory and light divine. Then where Bhall the billows of ocean be 1 Gone 1 for at that time shall be "no

more sea!" 'Tis a bright and beautiful thing of earth, That cannot share in the soul's "new

birth ;" 'Tis a life of murmur and tossing and

spray, And at resting'time it must pass away.

But, oh 1 thou glorious and beautiful sea, There is health and joy and blessing in thee : Solemnly, sweetly, I hear thy voice, Bidding me weep and yet rejoice— Weep for the loved ones buried beneath, Rejoice in Him who has conquered death : Weep for the sorrowing and tempesttossed, Rejoice in Him who has saved the lost; Weep for the sin, the sorrow, and strife, And rejoice in the hope of eternal life.