It finds naught but a starving gull whose wings trail at its side, And the dull battered wreckage, grey jetsam of the tide.
The lifeless chilly slaty sky with no blue hope is lit, A rusty waddling steamer plants a smudge of smoke on it.
Stupidly stand the factory chimneys staring over all, The grey grows ever denser, and soon the night will fall:
The wind runs sobbing over the beach and touches with its hands Straw, chaff, old bottles, broken crates, the litter of the sands.
Sometimes the bloated carcase of a dog or fish is found, Sometimes the rumpled feathers of a sea-gull shot or drowned.
Last year it was an unknown man who came up from the sea, There is his grave hard by the dunes under a stunted tree.
With heavy doleful clamour, hour on hour, and day on day, The muddy groundswell lifts and breaks and falls and slides away.
(2) SNOW AT SEA
_Andante._
Silently fell The snow on the waters In the grey dusk Of the winter evening: Swirling and falling, Sucked into the oily Blue-black surface Of the sea.
We pounded on slowly; From our bows sheeted A shuddering ma.s.s of heavy foam: Night closed about us, But ere we were darkened, We saw close in A great gaunt schooner Beating to southward.
Silently fell The snow on the waters, As we pounded north In the winter evening.
(3) THE NIGHT WIND
_Adagio lamentoso._
Wind of the night, wind of the long cool shadows, Wind from the garden gate stealing up the avenue, Wind caressing my cool pale cheek completely, All my happiness goes out to you.
Wind flapping aimlessly at my yellow window curtain, Wind suddenly insisting on your way down to the sea, Buoyant wind, sobbing wind, wind shuddering and plaintive, Why come you from beyond through the night"s blue mystery?
Wind of my dream, wind of the delicate beauty, Wind strumming idly at the harp-strings of my heart: Wind of the autumn--O melancholy beauty, Touch me once--one instant--you and I shall never part!
Wind of the night, wind that has fallen silent, Wind from the dark beyond crying suddenly, eerily, What terrible news have you shrieked out there in the stillness?
The night is cool and quiet and the wind has crept to sea.
(4) THE WRECK
_Grave: triste._
Its huge red prow Uplifted in a tragic att.i.tude, It waits out there; the seas around Bubble and hiss with moaning sound: In sight of port at the gates of the sea, It waits upreared expectantly.
It has known the joy of battle, It has known the shock of wreck: The spray coated its planking, The sands swallow its deck: Monument of the sea, That knows and that forgets eternally.
It heaves its scarred brow towards the city: The city pays it little heed: Indifferent, brutal, without pity, Stern cargo-steamers trudge and speed; The sun glares on it and the gulls wheel and flash, The rain beats on its deck, the winds pa.s.s silently; It is out there alone with the immense sea: Alone with its forgotten tragedy.
(5) TIDE OF STORMS
_Allegro con fuoco._
Crooked, crawling tide with long wet fingers Clutching at the gritty beach in the roar and spurt of spray, Tide of gales, drunken tide, lava-burst of breakers, Black ships plunge upon you from sea to sea away.
Shattering tide, tide of winds, tide of the long still winter, What matter though ships fail, men sink, there vanish glory?
War-clouds shall hurl their stinging sleet upon our last adventure, Night-winds shall brokenly whisper our bitter, tragic story.
PART IV. THE CALM
_Largo._
In the morning I saw three great ships Almost motionless Becalmed on an infinite horizon.
The clatter of waves up the beach, The grating rush of wet pebbles, The loud monotonous song of the surf, All these have soothed me And have given My soul to rest.
At noon I shall see waves flashing, White power of spray.
The steamers, stately, Kick up white puffs of spray behind them.
The boiling wake Merges in the blue-black mirror of the sea.
One eye of the sun sees all: The world, the wave, my heart.
I am content.
In the afternoon I shall dream a dream Of islands beyond the horizon.
White clouds drift over the sky, Frigates on a long voyage.
In the evening a mute blue stillness Clutches at my heart.
Stars sparkle upon the tips of my fingers.
Mystical hush, Fire in the darkness; The breaking of dreams.
But in the morning I shall see three great Almost motionless Becalmed on an infinite horizon.
THE END