THE SHIP OF THE SUMMER-TIME. 2O$
Ay, even the sand, that was level before, Now drifts in a mound on the time-beaten shore; A rift in the heart and a sigh in the breast Since a twelvemonth ago are as new as the rest.
One more breezy May, one glowing June more, Come in as I watch on the rocks by the shore, Where broken ships lie with the sea-weed about, And the little waves laugh at the kelson so stout,
Singing soft all the day, merry songs in the sun, As over the wrecks, with their white feet they run The wrecks of the years, fast aground from the tide, All sodden and black on the wild ocean-side.
O ship of the summer ! what bring you to me ? What chances and changes with blossoming tree ? What light glaring glows in the faint August noon? What dark shadows wait for the soft harvest moon ?
What sorrowful budget is hid in your hold ? What sigh lies asleep in your sail s snowy fold ? What heart will you cleave with your incoming prow?
ship of the summer-time ! whisper it now,
So that ere thou comest so swiftly to me,
1 may fashion a pennon of quaint broiderie, With this for its motto : " Whatever betide, I ll follow the Master, I ll trust in my Guide."