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SECOND SIGHT.
251
The thunder of the seas I hear,
The shriek along the wave,
When the bark sweeps forth, and song and cheer
Salute the parting brave.
With every breeze a spirit sends
To me some warning sign:—
A mournful gift is mine, O friends!
A mournful gift is mine!
Oh! prophet heart! thy grief, thy power,
To all deep souls belong;
The shadow in the sunny hour,
The wail in the mirthful song.
Their sight is all too sadly clear—
For them a veil is riven:
Their piercing thoughts repose not here,
Their home is but in Heaven.
