Across the Sea and Other Poems | Page 2

the ocean o'er,
A warning Voice, uprising
from the deep,
Murmured in plaintive rhythm to my soul.
THE VOICE.
Why wouldst thou go? the way is long and drear;
Thou mayst be
happy where thou art, but stern
The fortune is that rules the watery
waste.
He who doth wisdom love will not make haste
To change a
peaceful way for one of fear,
And he who leaves this shore can ne'er
return.
The warrior waves that lie in peace asleep
Upon the stilly bosom of

the main,
Will don their plumes of snow when night is by,
And rise
in battle 'gainst the stormy sky;
Where wilt thou hide thee from the
angry deep,
Till it has sunk to silvery dreams again?
THE ANSWER.
I may escape, for others have before,
Why should I fear to view the
storm-cloud's form?
I answered to the Voice. In One I trust,
Upon
whose blazing path the clouds are dust,
Why should I cower 'neath
the whirlwind's roar?
God's chariot is the whirlwind and the storm.
The thunder of the deep will be my psalm,
And e'en the crested wave,
that totters o'er
My way, will seem an emerald arbor fair,
With
portals of bluebells and lilies rare;
For Fancy knoweth not of storm or
calm,
It dreameth but of beauty evermore.
THE VOICE.
Yet 'tis a weary way, the Voice replied,
A trackless way of danger
and of care;
And from thy cheek, ere tho the Headland find,
The
rose will yield its petals to the wind;
And from thy heart an adverse
cruel tide
Will steal the dream of hope, and leave--despair.
Consider too, O youth, Earth is a sphere,
And he who journeys to the
verge of age,
But comes at eve to where he left at morn,
But views
at last the hearth where he was born,
But learns, the bright horizon
ne'er draws near
The circle climbers of life's pilgrimage.
Think well, again, thou mayst forever part
From pleasure, seeking
pleasure o'er the main.
The good of life--such is the human lot--

Seems only good to those who have it not.
Joy, smiling, opes the
portals of the heart.
But when he enters, Lo! his name is Pain.
Nothing but rest can satisfy thy thirst
For happiness. Hast thou on
land or sea
Found what was not a weariness at last,
And shall

to-morrow cheat thee as the past?
The glowing bubbles of the future
burst,
Touched by the finger-tip of Memory.
Thou art a poet, yet perchance may find
The birds will carol more
delicious lays;
Thy waves of song may melt in melody,
Yet softer is
the music of the sea.
Thou canst not rhyme so sweetly as the wind,

And nature is too subtile for thy phrase.
But leaning on the muffled harp of thought,
Here sweet for thee will
sigh the summer wind,
And dreamful will the rhythm of the deep

Upon the shore of silver fall asleep.
Nor wilt thou miss what thou has
never sought,
Nor seek what men at last have failed to find.
Yet if thou wilt not heed our counsel sage,
If still thou dost our
warning cry despise,
Yon barge will bear thee from these happy
shores.
Behold its silken sail, its crew, the oars,
And thou its prow,
thro' calm and tempest rage,
Mayst guide in peace at last--if thou art
wise.
Thus speaks the Voice to every child, but yet
Youth evermore to
Hope will loyal be.
Impatiently I listened to the strain,
Then turned
me to the Headland once again,
Which in the early morning light was
set
An emerald in a golden ring of sea.
II.--YOUTH.
The slow long wave crept up the ocean marge,
To steal the silver
sparkle of the sand;
Then lapsing from the shore, I scarce could feel

Its soft pulsations underneath the keel,
As I sat patiently within the
barge,
Until the breeze should bear me from the land.
And as I waited, lo! the morning sun
Rose golden on the misty
eastern sky,
And through the rosy dells the sunbeams bright
Stole
from the flowers the jewels of the night;
But yet no seaward zephyr
had begun
To fill the canvas drooping listlessly.

I saw an aged man upon the shore,
There was a kindly smile upon his
face
As thus he spake to me--"Here have I dwelt
For centuries, yet I
have never felt
The winds of heaven upon my forehead, nor
Will
they e'er visit this spell-haunted place.
Your gaily-painted barge will wait in vain
For favoring winds to fill
its silken sail.
If you would ever leave these drowsy shores
Your
crew must sweep the waters from their oars.
To win the Blessed
Headland o'er the main,
But tireless strength and effort will avail."
I gazed adown the barge; the silent men
Toyed with their oars,
awaiting my command;
The first was "Courage"--quick to see and
dare,
And next came "Patience," he as ready e'er
To calm an angry
brow to peace, and then
Came "Justice"--"Knowledge" sat at his right
hand.
I held the rudder. No hand but mine own
Could guide the mystic
barge across the sea.
But in the bow stood "Faith," whose vision keen

Discerns what mortal eye hath never seen,
And when a mist across
the deep is blown,
Sendeth sweet messages of hope to