The western tide crept up along the sand, And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see. The rolling mist came down and hid the land: 'O is it weed, or fish, or floating hair- A drowned maiden's hair, Above the nets at sea?' Was never salmon yet that shone so fair They row'd her in across the rolling foam, The cruel crawling foam, The cruel hungry foam, To her grave beside the sea. But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home, ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH 1819-1861 741. Say not the Struggle Naught availeth AY not the struggle naught availeth, SAY The labour and the wounds are vain, The enemy faints not, nor faileth, And as things have been they remain. If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; 742. For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, When daylight comes, comes in the light; WALT WHITMAN The Imprisoned Soul T the last, tenderly, AT 1819-1892 From the walls of the powerful, fortress'd house, From the clasp of the knitted locks-from the keep of the well-closed doors, Let me be wafted. Let me glide noiselessly forth; With the key of softness unlock the locks-with a whisper Set ope the doors, O soul! Tenderly be not impatient! (Strong is your hold, O mortal flesh! Strong is your hold, O love!) 743. O Captain! My Captain! O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; Yet I would lose no sting, would wish no torture less; The more that anguish racks, the earlier it will bless; And robed in fires of hell, or bright with heavenly shine, If it but herald Death, the vision is divine. No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere: I see Heaven's glories shine, And faith shines equal, arming me from fear. O God within my breast, Almighty, ever-present Deity! Life-that in me has rest, As I undying Life-have power in Thee! Vain are the thousand creeds That move men's hearts: unutterably vain; Or idlest froth amid the boundless main, To waken doubt in one Holding so fast by Thine infinity; So surely anchor'd on The steadfast rock of immortality. With wide-embracing love Thy Spirit animates eternal years, Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears. Though earth and man were gone, And suns and universes cease to be, And Thou were left alone, Every existence would exist in Thee. There is not room for Death, Nor atom that his might could render void: 739. 740. AIR CHARLES KINGSLEY Airly Beacon IRLY Beacon, Airly Beacon; Shires and towns from Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon; O the happy hours we lay Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon; The Sands of Dee "MARY, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, Across the sands of Dee.' 1819-1875 The western wind was wild and dark with foam, And all alone went she. The western tide crept up along the sand, And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see. The rolling mist came down and hid the land: 'O is it weed, or fish, or floating hair- A drowned maiden's hair, Above the nets at sea?' Was never salmon yet that shone so fair They row'd her in across the rolling foam, The cruel crawling foam, The cruel hungry foam, To her grave beside the sea. But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home, ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH 1819-1861 741. Say not the Struggle Naught availeth AY not the struggle naught availeth, SAY The labour and the wounds are vain, And as things have been they remain. If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; |