Poems (Howard)/Watch Hill

by Hattie Howard

Watch Hill.

But yesterday the gayest throng
 That ever sojourned by the sea,
With billows wrestled, brave and strong,
Or shone in festal halls, where song
 And minuet held revelry.

O'er watery courses flying yachts,
 Competitors fraternal, sped;
Their "logs" recording wondrous knots,
Till, far from view, but meager dots
 The overstraining vision led.

But crafty shark and monster whale
 May now disport where these have been,
Unterrified by gay taffrail
Of pleasure-craft whose pennon sail
 Some landsman's hand hath gathered in.

But yesterday the invalid,
 As gazing o'er the sea's expanse,
Would fain have made his grave amid
Its mysteries, forever hid
 From cold unsympathetic glance.

Beneath as lovely sunset skies
 As Oriental lands may claim,
Chance lovers breathed regretful sighs
That ere another morn should rise,
 The parting word their lips must frame.

To-day, where are the multitude
 From Earth's remotest corners met,
Who followed each capricious mood
That restless fancy might obtrude,
 As whimsical as gay coquette?

All, all are fled, deserted now
 Are sea and shore and glistening bay;
Forsaken Watch Hill's lonely brow
Confronts the elements that bow
 To none but their Creator's sway.

In solitude one walks the shore
 But yesterday by thousands trod,
And with a thrill unknown before
In Ocean's smile and Ocean's roar,
 Beholds the majesty of God.