TWILIGHT. THE twilight is sad and cloudy, But in the fisherman's cottage Close, close it is pressed to the window, Were looking into the darkness, And a woman's waving shadow Now rising to the ceiling, Now bowing and bending low. What tale do the roaring ocean, And why do the roaring ocean, And the night-wind, wild and bleak, H. W. LONGFELLOW. SEE where, upon the blue and waveless deep, Comes forth the silent Moon! Now, Music, wake from out thy charméd sleep; And bid thy sweet soul weep Her life away in some immortal tune! Or let thy soaring spirit run Aloft upon some wild enchanted air, Before whose breath despair Dies, like a mist before the uprisen sun! BARRY CORNWALL. THE FISHERMEN. THREE fishers went sailing out into the West, Each thought of the woman who loved him the best, And the children stood watching them out of the town; For men must work, and women must weep, Three wives sat up in the light-house tower And trimmed the lamps as the sun went down, And they looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower, And the rack it came rolling up, ragged and brown; But men must work, and women must weep, Though storms be sudden, and waters deep, And the harbor bar be moaning. Three corpses lay out on the shining sands In the morning gleam as the tide went down, And the women are watching and wringing their hands, For those who will never come back to the town; For men must work, and women must weep,And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep — And good bye to the bar and its moaning. CHARLES KINGSLEY. MOONRISE. ABOVE the headlands massy, dim, The globe, o'erhanging bright and brave The pale green-glimmering ocean-floor, Silvers its wave, its rustling wave Soft folded on the shelving shore. O lonely moon, a lonely place WILLIAM ALLINGHAM. GLIDE ON, MY BARK. GLIDE on, my bark; the summer's tide Her countless gems to deck the wave; Whilst moonlight shines like mimic dayGlide on, my bark, thy moonlit way. Glide on, my bark! how sweet to rove, No sound is heard to break the spell, ANONYMOUS. |