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. I STAND beside the mobile sea; And sails are spread, and sails are furld 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 flies the schooner careering beyond o'er the Quail and sand-piper, and swallow and sparrow, are blue; Faint shows the furrow she leaves as she cleaves lightly through; Gay gleams the fluttering flag at her delicate mast, Full swell the sails with the wind that is following fast. here; Sweet sound their manifold notes, high and low, far 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. DOWN 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. |