The Song

Hush, ah hush! the sea is kind! Lullaby is in the wind; Grief the babe forgets to weep, Lapped and spelled and laid to sleep: His lip is wet with the milk of the spray; He shall not wake till another day. Ah hush! the sea is kind!

Who can tell, ah who can tell, The cradling nurse’s croonèd spell? While the slumber-web she weaves Never nursling stirs or grieves: The tears that drowned his sweet eye-beams Are turned to mists of rainbow dreams. Ah hush! she charms us well!

“All thy hurts I balm and bind; All thy heart’s loves thou shalt find!” Yea, this she murmurs, best of all: “It was not loss that did befall! All thy joys are put away; They shall be thine another day!” Ah hush! the sea is kind!

She sang; she trembled like a lyre; Her pure eyes burned with azure fire; About her lucent brow the hair Played like light flames divine ones wear: The maid was very fair. But when she saw he gave no heed,-- Close-mantled up in ancient pain As in some sad-wound weed, Dumb as a shape of stone, Being years past all moan,-- She tried no other strain, But softly spake: “Most royal sir!” He raised his head and looked at her. So might a castaway, half dead, Lift up his haggard head, Waked by the swirl of sudden rain, A cool, unhoped-for grace, Against his tearless face: And see, with happy-crazèd mind, Upon his raft a Bright One stand,-- His love of youth, her grave long left behind In some sweet-watered land.