POETRY.
"ACROSS THE ESTUARY, SOUTH DEVON." YsouE sounds are stirring in the outer world, Which wake an echo in the world within me ; The frowning mists across the valley hurled To saddened musings by the casement win me : And on my rushing thoughts are borne along The waves of sudden and unpurposed song.
But now, the Sun painted in artist-splendour The varied outlines of the sea and shore ; The sloping woods were bathed in hues so tender, That master's canvas ne'er such glories wore ; Yet where enrobed in purple gold shone they, Now spreads a monotone of lifeless gray. The great Enchanter's momentary wand Darkens the landscape and the mind as one; The headlands face me o'er the bay beyond Robbed both of us together of our sun ; And out of ungaessed caverns creeps the rain, To touch the spirit with a nameless pain.
You white and flickering sail, which flashed but now Across the bright waves blue as Brenda's eyes, Droops wet and wearied o'er the vessel's prow On bueless wastes caught by a swift surprise, Which clouds engendered of the vaporous sea Bring o'er the startled scene to master me.
Like beacons on the world's uncertain course, Fair homes set gem-like in the further trees Seemed whispering of untired Love's quiet force, A silver girdle linking ours to these ; And for Home's message to that shore from this, The lapping waters bore a greeting kiss.
But now—and so but now—Life seemed to wear High purpose for a marriage-robe of power, And all her pulses and her will to share The sun-enkindled promise of the hour ; Till, as the mist wraps the far shore from view, It falls as heavy on my spirit too.
Is this, then, Life ? its pledges sharply broken, Even at their fairest and most golden link; Do they the fate of rosy dreams betoken, Those emerald ripples turned to sullen ink ?
And were it wiser anchorless to roam, Than nail high hopes to the frail walls of Home ?
Off with such burrs of thought ! the very spell Which bids me throw these fancies on the page Awakes new chords and brighter songs to swell The happy burden of on-coming age, And Cloudland's fretful shapes to soar above To the fixed firmament of God and Love.
Out and beyond the steady light is shining, Which from the steady heart no mist can veil, Bright beyond man's divinest of divining, Where all his mists of thought must melt and fail, And, as e'en now the clouds roll off the shore, Obscure the homes of promise nevermore.
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