Classic Poem

SPURIOUS .

Dim is the beam of morning; and the blast
Scatters the ocean surge; the wild waves roar,
In tumult lost, and down the troubled shore
The spirit of the storm in clouds hath passed.
High o'er the deep the foam careering rides;
Thick flashing through the air red lightnings play,
Gleaming athwart the gloom, and tinge the spray
With dismal splendour: yet to-morrow's tides
May steal along in stillness; then once more
The sparkling wave with orient light shall stream,
Once more the morn shall smile serene, and pour
On all her freshening dew and golden beam.
But ah! what calm can lull with sweet controul
The tempest that so long hath vexed my soul?