From Bermuda's reefs; from edg Of sunken ledges, In some far-off, bright Azore; From Bahama, and the dashing, Silver-flashing Surges of San Salvador; From the tumbling surf, that burie The Orkneyan skerries, Answering the hoarse Hebrides; And from wrecks of ships, and dri Spars, uplifting On the desolate, rainy seas ; Ever drifting, drifting, drifting On the shifting Currents of the restless main; Till in sheltered coves, and reaches Of sandy beaches, All have found repose again. So when storms of wild emotion Strike the ocean Of the poet's soul, ere long From each cave and rocky fastness, In its vastness, Floats some fragment of a song: From the far-off isles enchanted, Heaven has planted With the golden fruit of Truth; From the flashing surf, whose vision Gleams Elysian In the tropic clime of Youth; From the strong Will, and the Endeavour That forever Wrestles with the tides of Fate; From the wreck of Hopes far-scattered, Tempest-shattered, Floating waste and desolate ; Ever drifting, drifting, drifting Currents of the restless heart; Till at length in books recorded, They, like hoarded Household words, no more depar THE DAY IS DONE. THE day is done, and the darkness I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist : A feeling of sadness and longir As the mist resembles the ra Come, read to me some poem, Some simple and heartfelt lay That shall soothe this restless fe And banish the thoughts of da Not from the grand old masters, Not from the bards sublime, Whose distant footsteps echo Through the corridors of Time For, like strains of martial music, Their mighty thoughts suggest Life's endless toil and endeavour; And to-night I long for rest. |