Failure Triumphant

How many a captain wave, since sea began, Has lordly led the charge against the shore, Whose crest a jewelled plume of rainbow bore, As iris Hope arches the march of Man: How many a wave, brave-glittering in the van, Has melted as a cloud in spray and roar-- A flashing column prone, and next, no more! So runs the tale, since Time’s first sand outran. So ends the antique tale. Stay! ends it so? Though every billow faint into a ghost, The all-embracing ocean--that gives birth, Receives, and recreates--in ebb and flow, A vast sky-coupled Mystery round the coast, Works out its will upon the face of earth.