The Visiting Sea

As the inhastening tide doth roll, Home from the deep, along the whole Wide shining strand, and floods the caves, --Your love comes filling with happy waves The open sea-shore of my soul.

But inland from the seaward spaces, None knows, not even you, the places Brimmed, at your coming, out of sight, --The little solitudes of delight This tide constrains in dim embraces.

You see the happy shore, wave-rimmed, But know not of the quiet dimmed Rivers your coming floods and fills, The little pools 'mid happier hills, My silent rivulets, over-brimmed.

What! I have secrets from you? Yes. But, visiting Sea, your love doth press And reach in further than you know, And fills all these; and, when you go, There's loneliness in loneliness.