Of fashion! And until a thousand storms

Of God's impatience shall reveal the flaw

In man's pet system, he will weave the spell

About his heart and dream that all is well.

Ah! Life is hard, Dear Heart, for I am left

To battle with my old-time fears alone

I must live calmly on, and make no moan

Though of my hoped-for happiness bereft.

Thou wilt not come, and still the red cliff lies

Hiding my ocean from these longing eyes.

[Pg 57]

Sea-Song.

It sings to me, it sings to me,

The shore-blown voice of the blithesome sea!

Of its world of gladness all untold,

Of its heart of green, and its mines of gold,

And desires that leap and flee.

It moans to me, it moans to me!

The storm-stirred voice of the restive sea!

Of the vain dismay and the yearning pain

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