Sea Lure

(The Maine Coast)

It is so, O sea! wild roses Bloom here in the scent of your brine. And the juniper round them closes, And the bays amid them twine, To guard and to praise their beauty; And the gulls above them cry, And the stern rocks stand on duty, Where the surf beats white and high.

It is so, O sea! wild roses, With the day-long fog bedrenched, Have come from their inland closes With a thirst for you unquenched. And over your cliffs they clamber, And over your vast they gaze; For the tides of you can enamour Even them with their woodland ways.

Yea, the passion of you and the power And the largeness are a lure To even the heart of a flower, O sea, with a heart unsure! For love is a thing unsated, Nor ever in any breast Has it dwelt, all want abated, At rest.

SONGS TO A. H. R.