12
OFF SHORE.
And yonder slender stream of changing light,
Now white, now crimson, tremulously bright,
Where dark the light-house stands, with fiery crown.
Now white, now crimson, tremulously bright,
Where dark the light-house stands, with fiery crown.
Thick falls the dew, soundless on sea and shore:
It shines on little boat and idle oar,
Wherever moonbeams touch with tranquil glow.
It shines on little boat and idle oar,
Wherever moonbeams touch with tranquil glow.
The waves are full of whispers wild and sweet;
They call to me,—incessantly they beat
Along the boat from stern to curvéd prow.
They call to me,—incessantly they beat
Along the boat from stern to curvéd prow.
Comes the careering wind, blows back my hair,
All damp with dew, to kiss me unaware,
Murmuring "Thee I love," and passes on.
All damp with dew, to kiss me unaware,
Murmuring "Thee I love," and passes on.
Sweet sounds on rocky shores the distant rote;
O could we float forever, little boat,
Under the blissful sky drifting alone!
O could we float forever, little boat,
Under the blissful sky drifting alone!
