The Sailor’s Bride

It was eve,—at anchor riding Stately ships were lulled to rest; And the burnished sun was gliding Down the golden pillared west. On a floral beach where madly Lashed old ocean’s foaming tide, In half-broken accents sadly Mourned the sailor’s lonely bride:

“Oh, ye winds on restless pinion, Hovering o’er the dusky deep, Tell me in what lone dominion Does my sailor lover sleep? Down beneath the rolling ocean, Where the twining corals grow, ’Neath the wild wave’s ceaseless motion Does he slumber cold and low?

“Now perchance the night winds blowing On a shore all wild and drear, Wave the tomb weeds o’er him growing Undisturbed for many a year. Oh! to me how sad and lonely Seems the course of life for’er, Haunted by vague memories only, Which like ghosts yet linger near.

“Years have fled since last we parted On that most memorial night, When in sadness, broken hearted, Turned I to the moon’s wan light; There some vague ghost seemed to linger, With a tale too sad to tell, And with lifted palsied finger, Seemed to sigh, ‘Farewell! farewell!’

“Well I knew it was a token From death’s dim and shadowy sphere, And hope’s golden cup fell broken, Dewed with many a falling tear. Every bud of joy and gladness, Every flower that love had fed,— All in memory’s urn of sadness, Mingled with the withered dead.”

While she spoke the tears of twilight Fell upon the dying day, And the murky, misty skylight On the slumbering ocean lay: And the winds the lone beach sweeping, Bore no tidings to her ear;— Till beside the maiden weeping Stood her sailor lover dear.