Poetry Archives

I hear the waves to-night
Piteously calling, calling
Though the light
Of the kind moon is falling,
Like kisses, on the sea
That calls for sunshine, dear, as my soul calls for thee.

I see the sea lie gray
Wrinkling her brows in sorrow,
Hear her say:—
“Bright love of yesterday, return to-morrow,
Sun, I am thine, am thine!”
Oh sea, thy love will come again, but what of mine?