Yestereen I stood beside the level seas
by Sheehan Patrick Augustine
The soft wind fanned the hair upon my brow,
The soft waves lapped and curled against my knees,
And the prophetic sea-voice said, Be thou
A child of evermore.
A child of evermore! A child! Ah me!
Vain is the thought, and vainer the regret
That sweeps throughout the vaults of memory
Wailing, Remember! wailing too, Forget
The days that are no more!
The days that are no more. The day to be,
The work, the worship, and the bitter trial,
Pain, and the hope of long-sought alchemy.
And the remorseless hand upon the dial
Marking the Nevermore.
Marking the Nevermore! And is this all?
No! For the mighty soul in forward leaps
Beareth the life beyond the shrill recall
Of Death, whose scythed chariot onward sweeps,
Stopped only by the shore.
Stopped on the shore of time, - the vast bounds,
And stretches of the illimitable sea
Where never fails a breaker, never sounds
A wind of desolation, - leave life free
Ever, and evermore!