On Seaford Head
Far, far below, the cold relentless waves
Roll in upon the rock-strewn shore and break:
And every wave sounds like the breath men take
Ere death's full tide flows in and gently laves
Pain's charact'ry from the saint's face or knave's.
Listen! I hear a hundred dead men wake
And slowly rise, and then begin to rake
Along the shore, like thieving ghouls on graves.
O mournful sea! That oft-repeated sigh
Echoes the weariness of every man
Who, in despite of clouded destiny,
A great adventure hopefully began:
Who burst aside his earthly prison bars,
But failed beneath the inevitable stars.
Roll in upon the rock-strewn shore and break:
And every wave sounds like the breath men take
Ere death's full tide flows in and gently laves
Pain's charact'ry from the saint's face or knave's.
Listen! I hear a hundred dead men wake
And slowly rise, and then begin to rake
Along the shore, like thieving ghouls on graves.
O mournful sea! That oft-repeated sigh
Echoes the weariness of every man
Who, in despite of clouded destiny,
A great adventure hopefully began:
Who burst aside his earthly prison bars,
But failed beneath the inevitable stars.
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