PEACE, moaning Sea; what tale have you to tell? What mystic tidings, all unknown before? Whether you break in thunder on the shore, Or whisper like the voice within the shell, O moaning Sea, I know your burden well. 'Tis but the old dull tale, filled full of pain; The finger on the dial-plate of time, Advancing slow with pitiless beat sublime, As stoops the day upon the fading plain; And that has been which may not be again. The voice of yearning, deep but scarce expressed, For something which is not, but may be yet; Too full of sad continuance to forget, Too troubled with desires to be at rest, Too self-conflicting ever to be blest. The voice of hopes and aspirations high, Swallowed in sand, or shivered on the rock; Tumultuous life dashed down with sudden shock; And passionate protests, narrowed to a sigh, From hearts too weak to live, -- too strong to die. The voice of old beliefs which long have fled, Gone with a shriek, and leaving naught behind, But some vague utterance, cold as wintry wind, -- Some dim remembrance of a ghostly dread Which lingers still when faith itself is dead. And, above all, through thund'rous wintry roar, And summer ripple, this, and this alone, For ever do I make this barren moan: -- No end, there is no end, -- on Time's dull shore I wail, I beat, I thunder, evermore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OFFERING by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON YOUTH'S PROGENY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE CANDLE by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |