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THE OCEAN-TIDE TO THE RIVULET, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: My voice is hoarse with calling to the deep
Last Line: Joy! -- joy! -- my breast receives its own again!
Alternate Author Name(s): Moore, Mary Elizabeth


MY voice is hoarse with calling to the deep,
While, as I bore me on with measured sweep
To where beneath the jutting cape I rest,
The warring night-winds smote upon my way,
And the fierce lightnings join'd in wild affray,
And hurl'd their fiery javelins at my breast.

Night -- and abroad there moves no living thing!
Sunk on her nest the sea-gull folds her wing,
The bearded goat hath left the cliff on high, --
Of thy fair feet the parch'd sand bears no trace --
Beloved! I wait thee at our meeting place,
I call, but echo gives alone reply.

To what far thicket have thy light steps won?
Shunning the rude gaze of the amorous sun,
In what dark fountain doth thy sweetness hide?
No star shines through the rift in yonder sky --
None may behold thee where thou wanderest by --
Bound from thy lurking forth my woodland bride

Sadly the flowers their faded petals close,
Where on thy banks they languidly repose,
Waiting in vain to hear thee onward press;
And pale Narcissus by thy margin side
Hath lingered for thy coming, droop'd, and died,
Pining for thee, amid the loneliness.

Hasten, beloved! here, 'neath the o'erhanging rock, --
Hark! from the deep my anxious hope to mock,
They call me backward to my parent main, --
Brighter than Thetis thou! and how more fleet --
I hear the rushing of thy fair, white feet,
Joy! -- joy! -- my breast receives its own again!





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