FROM this quaint cabin window I can see The strange, vague line of ghostly driftwood, though No ray of silver moon or soft star-glow Steals through the summer night's solemnity. Pale forms drive landward and wild figures flee Like spectres up the shore; I hear the slow, Firm tread of marching billows which I know Will walk beside the years that are to be. Sweet, gentle sleep is banished from mine eyes; I lie and think of wrecks until the sobs And groans of drowning sailors, lost at sea, Come mingled with the gray gulls' plaintive cries And those tumultuous, incessant throbs -- The heavy heart-beats of Eternity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RIDDLE ON THE LETTER H (1) by CATHERINE MARIA FANSHAWE THAT NATURE IS A HERACLITEAN FIRE & OF THE COMFORT OF THE RESURRECTION by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS PARAPHRASE ON THOMAS A KEMPIS by ALEXANDER POPE YOUTH, DAY, OLD AGE AND NIGHT by WALT WHITMAN ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 9. TO CURIO by MARK AKENSIDE THE FLIGHT OF THE WAR-EAGLE by OBADIAH CYRUS AURINGER |