Mingled the waters with the land Full short his journey was; no dust He seemed a cherub who had lost his way With us was short, and 'twas most meet O blest word-Evermore ! 1839. THE SIRENS. THE sea is lonely, the sea is dreary, The low west-wind creeps panting up the shore Follow! O, follow! To be at rest forevermore! Look how the gray old Ocean Chiming with our melody; And all sweet sounds of earth and air That murmurs over the weary sea, Here mayst thou rest from the aching oar; Turn thy curvéd prow ashore, And Echo half wakes in the wooded hill, Thus, on Life's weary sea, Voices sweet, from far and near, Is it not better here to be, A restless grave, where thou shalt lie Look down beneath thy wave-worn bark, Lean over the side and see The leaden eye of the sidelong shark Ever waiting there for thee: Look down and see those shapeless forms, Far down within the gloomy deep, And only stir themselves in storms, In the whirls of their unwieldy play; Look down! Upon the seaweed, slimy and dark, Look down beneath thy wave-worn bark Thus, on Life's lonely sea, Here all is pleasant as a dream; Listen! O, listen! Here is a gush of many streams, A song of many birds, Here ever hum the golden bees Underneath full-blossomed trees, At once with glowing fruit and flowers crowned ;— The sand is so smooth, the yellow sand, That thy keel will not grate as it touches the land; All around with a slumberous sound, The singing waves slide up the strand, And there, where the smooth, wet pebbles be, |