The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1874-07-28
A SEA DREAM.
lAtIantic for August

We saw the slow tides go and come,
The curvino surf-lfnes lightly drawn,
The gray rocks touched with tender bloom
Beneath the fresh-blown rose of dawn
We saw in richer sunsets lost
The SOnOer pomp OF showery nOOns'
And signal spectral sails that crossed
The weird, low light Of sea-born moons
ON stormy ewes from cliff and head
We saw the white spray tossed ana sPurheu
While, over all. In gold and red,
Its face Of fire the lighthouse turned
The rail-car brought its daily crowds;
Half curious half Indifferent,
Like passing sails or floating clouds,
We saw them as they came and went
But. one calm morning, as lay
And watched the mirage-lifted wall
OF coast, across the dreamy bay,
And heard afar the curlew call,
And nearer voices wild or tame,
IT'D oi r ann the hNe wa anq edge there eae
Faint snatches of familiar song.
Careless we heard the singers choice
OF old and common airs; at last
The tender pathos OF his voice
In one low chanson held us last.
A song that mingled joy and pain,
And memories old and sadly sweet
While timing 10 its minor strain,
The waves Ia lapsing cadence sweet.
The waves are glad in breeze and sun,
The rocks are fringed with foam;
L walk once more haunted shore,
stranger. yet at bone
A land Of dreams roam!
Is this the wind, the soft sea-wind,
That stirred thy locks of brown:
Are these the rocks whose MOSES knew
The trail of thy light gown
Where boy and girl sat down?
I see the gray forts broken wall,
The boats that rock below;
And, out at sea, the passing sails
We saw so long ago,
Rese-red in the mornings glow.
The freshness of the early time
ON every breeze Is blown:
As glad the sea, blue the sky
The change Is ours alone;
The saddest Is my own!
A stranger now, a world-worn man
Is he who bears my namei
But thou, methinks, whose mortal lie
Immortal youth became,
Art evermore the same
Thou art not here. thou art not there,
Thy place cannot see;
The blessed angels be,
And heaven Is glad for thee.
Forgive me If the evil years
Have left on me their sim;
Wash out, soul so beautiful,
The many states of mine
In tears Of love divinei
Oh turn 70 me that dearest face
The welded roses of thy lips,
Thy loose hair ripping down
In waves Of golden brown!
Look forth once more through space and time,
And let thy sweet shade fall
In teuderest grace OF soul and form
On memory frescoed wall,
A shadow, and yet all!
Draw near, more near, forever dearl
Where er L rest or roam,
OR in the crowded city streets
Or by the blown ea-foaHl,
The thought Of thee is homei
At breakfast hour the singer read
The city news, with comment wise,
Like one who felt the pulse of trade
Beneath his nnger fall and rise.
His look, his air, his curt speech told
The man of action, not OF books,
To whom the corners made in gold
And stocks were more than seaside hooks.
OF life beneath the life confessed
His song had limited unawareS;
OF flowers in traffics ledgers pressed,
OF human hearts in Bulls and Bears.
But eyes in vain were turned to watch
That ace so hard and shrewd and strong;
And ears in vain grew sharp 10 catch
The meaning OF that morning song.
In vain some veet-voiced querfst sought
To sound him, leaving as she came;
Her baited album only caught
A common, unromantic name.
No WORD betrayed the mystery fine
That trembled on the singers tongue;
He came and went, and left no sign
Behind him save the song he sung.