And empty were my hands.
Yet ever from the wailing sea there came
Voices that echoed one remember'd name!
The sea's face only, veil'd in desolation,
And sad with foam like tears!
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A face all wrinkled from its prime creation
With burdens of the years, -
With grievous burdens; and for their distress,
The gray lips part in sighs of bitterness.
O sea, thou knowest only what hath vanisht,
Not what is yet to be;
From thy wan face hath time the last smile banisht -
Thou hast no hope, O sea!
Thy waysare dark; and on the darkening shore
Thy wet white feet stumble forevermore!