THE MOBILE SEA. 159 The curtains drawn and the pillows toss'd Like a tide of foam ; and one will say Will say, – 0 Heaven, the days are years, JOAQUIN MILLER. I STAND BESIDE THE MOBILE SEA. IS And sails are spread, and sails are furl'd Behold the ocean on the beach JOAQUIN MILLER. SURF. SPL Lighting and luring them on to the land, – Blue rollers breaking in surf where we stand. Curved like the necks of a legion of horses, Each with his froth-gilded mane flowing free, Hither they speed in perpetual courses, Bearing thy riches, O beautiful sea ! Strong with the striving of yesterday's surges, Lashed by the wanton winds leagues from the shore, Each, driven fast by its follower, urges Fearlessly those that are fleeting before ; A THANKSGIVING. 161 How they leap over the ridges we walk on, Flinging us gifts from the depths of the sea, – Silvery fish for the foam-haunting falcon, Palm-weed and pearls for my darling and me! Light falls her foot where the rift follows after, Finer her hair than your feathery spray, Sweeter her voice than your infinite laughter, Hist! ye wild couriers, list to my lay! Deep in the chambers of grottos auroral Morn laves her jewels and bends her red knee: Thence to my dear one your amber and coral Bring for her dowry, O beautiful sea ! EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN. A THANKSGIVING. HIGH bright, Turning the leaves till they shudder and shine in the light: Yellow St. John's-wort and yarrow are nodding their heads. Iris and wild-rose are glowing in purples and reds. Swift fies the schooner careering beyond o'er the blue; Faint shows the furrow she leaves as she cleaves lightly through ; Gay gleams the futtering flag at her delicate mast, Full swell the sails with the wind that is following Quail and sand-piper, and swallow and sparrow, are here; fast. far Sweet sound their manifold notes, high and low, and near ; Chorus of musical waters, the rush of the breeze, Steady and strong from the South, - what glad voices are these! O cup of the wild-rose, curved close to hold odorous dew, What thought do you hide in your heart ? I would that I knew ! O beautiful Iris, unfurling your purple and gold, What victory fling you abroad in the flags you unfold ! Sweet may your thought be, red rose ; but still sweeter is mine, Close in my heart hidden, clear as your dewdrop divine. Flutter your gonfalons, Iris, – the pæan I sing Is for victory better than joy or than beauty can bring. Into thy calm eyes, O Nature, I look and rejoice ; glad day, And eastward the swift-rolling planet wheels into the gray. CELIA THAXTER. DOWN ON THE SHORE. 163 DOWN ON THE SHORE. DOW Where the salt smell cheers the land; And the surge on the glittering strand; Where the children wade in the shallow pools, Or run from the froth in play ; Are crossing the sapphire bay, Holds proudly on her way. To sing their lullaby. Down on the shore, on the stormy shore ! Beset by a growling sea, Like wolves up a traveller's tree. Blows the curlew off with a screech ; Is flung out of fishes' reach ; And scatters her planks on the beach. |