Aeolian Harp

O pale green sea,

With long, pale, purple clouds above -

What lies in me like weight of love ?

What dies in me

With utter grief, because there comes no sign

Through the sun-raying West, or the dim sea-line ?

O salted air,

Blown round the rocky headland still,

What calls me there from cove and hill?

What calls me fair

From thee, the first-born of the youthful night,

Or in the waves is coming through the dusk twilight ?

O yellow Star,

Quivering upon the rippling tide -

Sendest so far to one that sigh'd?

Bendest thou, Star,

Above, where the shadows of the dead have rest

And constant silence, with a message from the blest?