Classic Poem

There were, far in thy native ocean blue,
Deep grots, all sweet sea-sounds re-echoing;
Waves up the long smooth beach slow-travelling,
With solemn fall monotonously drew
Their rolling lengths along. Such sounds did through
Thy sinuous labyrinthine chambers ring;
And unforgetting, still they faintly sing —
After long years, at unknown distance, true —
Their old accustomed song. Thus the old heart
Echoes its youth. The Bible-stories from
Our mother's lips, who taught us how to pray,
Our simple hymns, by chance remembered, start
Sometimes ev'n tears, that all unbidden come,
To think those innocent hours so very far away!