---

Dinah Maria Mulock - Sitting On The Shore
Work rating: Low

THE tide has ebbed away: 
No more wild dashings `gainst the adamant rocks, 
Nor swayings amidst sea-weed false that mocks 
The hues of gardens gay: 
No laugh of little wavelets at their play: 
No lucid pools reflecting heaven`s clear brow-- 
Both storm and calm alike are ended now. 

The rocks sit gray and lone: 
The shifting sand is spread so smooth and dry, 
That not a tide might ever have swept by 
Stirring it with rude moan: 
Only some weedy fragments idly thrown 
To rot beneath the sky, tell what has been: 
But Desolation`s self has grown serene. 

Afar the mountains rise, 
And the broad estuary widens out, 
All sunshine; wheeling round and round about 
Seaward, a white bird flies. 
A bird? Nay, seems it rather in these eyes 
A spirit, o`er Eternity`s dim sea 
Calling--"Come thou where all we glad souls be. 
O life, O silent shore, 
Where we sit patient; O great sea beyond 
To which we turn with solemn hope and fond, 
But sorrowful no more: 
A little while, and then we too shall soar 
Like white-winged sea-birds into the Infinite Deep: 
Till then, Thou, Father--wilt our spirits keep.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.