NO MORE SEA.

Καὶ ἡ θάλασσα σὐκ ἔστιν ἐτι.—(REV. xxi. 1.)

SUMMER Ocean, idly washing

This grey rock on which I lean; Summer Ocean, broadly flashing With thy hues of gold and green; Gently swelling, wildly dashing

O'er yon island-studded scene; Summer Ocean, how I'll miss thee,— Miss the thunder of thy roar, Miss the music of thy ripple,

Miss thy sorrow-soothing shore,Summer Ocean, how I'll miss thee,

When "the sea shall be no more." Summer Ocean, how I'll miss thee, As along thy strand I range; Or as here I sit and watch thee

In thy moods of endless change—

NO MORE SEA.

Mirthful moods of morning gladness,
Musing moods of sunset sadness;
When the dying winds caress thee,
And the sinking sunbeams kiss thee,
And the crimson cloudlets press thee,
And all nature seems to bless thee !-
Summer Ocean, how I'll miss thee,—
Miss the wonders of thy shore,
Miss the magic of thy grandeur,
When "the sea shall be no more!"

And yet sometimes in my musings,
When I think of what shall be;

In the day of earth's new glory,
Still I seem to roam by thee.

As if all had not departed,

But the glory lingered still;
As if that which made thee lovely,
Had remained unchangeable.

Only that which marred thy beauty,—
Only that had passed away,

Sullen wilds of Ocean-moorland,

Bloated features of decay,

Only that dark waste of waters,

23

24

NO MORE SEA.

Line ne' er fathomed, eye ne 'er scanned,
Only that shall shrink and vanish,

Yielding back the imprisoned land.
Yielding back earth's fertile hollows,
Long submerged and hidden plains;
Giving up a thousand valleys,

Of the ancient world's domains.
Leaving still bright azure ranges,
Winding round this rocky tower;
Leaving still yon gem-bright island,
Sparkling like an ocean-flower.
Leaving still some placid stretches,
Where the sunbeams bathe at noon,

Leaving still some lake-like reaches,

Mirrors for the silver moon.

Only all of gloom and horror,

Idle wastes of endless brine,

Haunts of darkness, storm, and danger,
These shall be no longer thine.
Backward ebbing, wave and ripple,
Wondrous scenes shall then disclose;
And, like earth's, the wastes of ocean
Then shall blossom as the rose.

THE CHANGE.

I LOVE yon pale blue sky; it is the floor
Of that glad home where I shall shortly be;
A home from which I shall go out no more;
From toil and grief and vanity set free.

I gaze upon yon everlasting arch,

Up which the bright stars wander, as they shine; And as I mark them in their nightly march,

I think how soon that journey shall be mine!

Yon silver drift of silent cloud, far up

In the still heaven-through you my pathway lies; Yon rugged mountain-peak-how soon your top Shall I behold beneath me, as I rise!

Not many more of life's slow-pacing hours,
Shaded with sorrow's melancholy hue;-
Oh, what a glad ascending shall be ours,
Oh, what a pathway up yon starry blue!

26

THE CLOUDLESS.

A journey like Elijah's, swift and bright,

Caught gently upward to an early crown, In heaven's own chariot of unblazing light,* With death untasted and the grave unknown.

THE CLOUDLESS.

No shadows yonder!

All light and song;

Each day I wonder,

And say, How long

Shall time me sunder

From that dear throng?

No weeping yonder!

All fled away;

While here I wander

Each weary day,

And sigh as I ponder

My long, long stay.

* Θείῳ πυρὶ παμφαής.—Soph. Philoct.