Creation's morning broke upon my brow; The joyous sea, Baptized of light, as I behold it now, Encompassed me With all its breathing tides of voiceful majesty. The tender dawn, a virgin, blushed before The rising sun, And wrought of mist a folding mantle pure Her charms upon, When, lo! the quickening glance she fondly strove to shun. Swift rolled to noon the unaccustomed wheel. Then westward sped, Where, fain the kindling radiance to feel, Rich vapors spread Beneath their monarch's feet and o'er his regal head. Then soft the budding crescent silvered through The twilight dim, And darkening to its full-blown splendor grew The burnished rim, While sang the choral waves a hoarse triumphal hymn. The circling years to centuries unfold As moments passed; Nor Time nor Death one dismal shadow cold Upon me cast; All earth and heaven reposed in calm communion vast. But Change, alas! on sudden pinions borne With darkness fell; And blind Confusion, from the womb uptorn Of haggard Hell, Spun o'er the dizzy world that shrank their alien spell. Then drifted, prone upon the devious main, Whose billows warm Plunged headlong with the wayward hurricane, A fragile form Untented to the elements that swayed the storm. The shudder of the thunder-bolt amazed The welkin wide; And, as in dumb bewilderment I gazed, The cloven tide Upheaved its burthen, motionless, upon my side. Ah! well-a-day! It was a maiden face, A brow that shone With the divine mortality and grace That Death alone -- Pale sculptor! -- graves in mockery on human stone! "Art thou a child, sweet wanderer, of the sea, Or earth, or air? Whence comest thou," I marveled, "unto me? What winged care Pursues a pathless voyager, so heavenly fair?" No voice -- no motion -- for the sea had done Its deed of death; The first pale victim to its vengeance won With briny breath The foam had stifled and the waves that writhe beneath! Had I but tears! Alas! my bosom cold, How rough to be Her resting-place! No throb convulsive told Its agony -- The dull imprisoned pain, unslaked, that wasted me! And here she lay. The dewy twilight wept Her woeful doom, While the perpetual breezes fragrant kept Her roofless tomb, Whence meteors of the night dispelled sepulchral gloom. And yonder light upon my summit set, A beacon star, Is tended of her watchful spirit yet, That from afar Warns the benighted sail that nears the harbor bar. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TOMB AT AKR CAAR by EZRA POUND EPIGRAM: 118. ON GUT by BEN JONSON A PRESENCE by KENNETH SLADE ALLING |