(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939 / County Dublin / Ireland)

Moon And Sea

You are the moon, dear love, and I the sea:
The tide of hope swells high within my breast,
And hides the rough dark rocks of life’s unrest
When your fond eyes smile near in perigee.
But when that loving face is turned from me,
Low falls the tide, and the grim rocks appear,
And earth’s dim coast-line seems a thing to fear.
You are the moon, dear one, and I the sea.

User Rating: 3,1 / 5 ( 24 votes ) 1

Other poems of WHEELER WILCOX (563)

Comments (1)

'Who'd care to dig 'em, ' said the old, old man. 'Those six feet marked in chalk? Much I talk, more I walk; Time I were buried, ' said the old, old man. excellent poetry