A MAID upon the lonely beach, All in the silent, summer day, With wide blue eyes fixed far away, And small hands clinging each to each. All day she wanders by the sea; -- What are the ways of men to her, Whose soul is busy with the stir Of never-resting memory? For there had glanced a passing gleam Of love all hopeless on her way, And life's up-springing April day God's hand had darkened with a dream. The mist floats on the desert's face, And lake and isle all lustrous moulds, -- But when withdrawn its billowy folds, How bare and desolate the place! Why should she live? The life above Can scarce be sadder than her own; But shall she die? For death alone Can still the fluttering wing of love. When darkness on the ocean hangs, She hears the loud surf tumbling in, The loose stones jostling with a din Like wild beast clashing-to his fangs. Under the leaden morning sky, She sees from off the toppling comb The mad wind snatching flecks of foam To whirl them wildly drifting by. And when, as daylight disappears, The large moon upward moveth slow, It seems to waver, shrink, and grow, Trembling through such a mist of tears. But when the evening zephyrs blow A music borne from off the sea, She mingles with the melody A plaintive song, all soft and low. Calmly the night comes down on all the land, Faintly the twilight glimmers o'er the sea, Sadly the lingering ripples kiss the sand, So sad I pace the beach and wait for thee. Soft steal the muffled inland echoes here, A sound of church-bells trembles on the lea, -- So softly, muffled memories meet the ear, And seem to mock me as I wait for thee. Solemnly still the great, calm stars glow on, And all the broad, fair heaven leans silently, While slumberous Ocean's undulous undertone Still whispers with me as I wait for thee. Upon the strand where life's loud surges beat, My footsteps follow where my hope must be; The dull, long days and nights break at my feet -- Must I forever, weeping, wait for thee? Low lowers the dull-eyed winter's day -- A sullen sky the ocean mocks; The surf beats bitterly the rocks, Which wintry years have worn away. Chafing within its cragged cage, The wave again and still again Leaps fiercely up its length of chain, To fall back foaming in its rage. On the wet sands, with elfish hair, And faded fingers tightly clenched, And vest whose folds, all weather-drenched, Leave half her haggard bosom bare, She stands amid the spray, alone. O heavy heart! that all thy years Hast held one image dim with tears, And watched it while it turned to stone. So wretched stands she staring there, As if the desert and the storm And bitter wind had taken form, And frozen into that despair. And looking on them thus I seem To understand the life undone, The life-long wretchedness of one Whose youth was withered with a dream. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LEAVES OF A MAGAZINE by MARIANNE MOORE ROCK ME TO SLEEP by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN WITH FLOWERS by EMILY DICKINSON A CHRISTMAS CAROL, SUNG TO THE KING IN THE PRESENCE AT WHITEHALL by ROBERT HERRICK MOONRISE IN THE ROCKIES by ELLA (RHOADS) HIGGINSON ROBERT BROWNING by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR ON THE SUN COMING OUT IN THE AFTERNOON by HENRY DAVID THOREAU |