THE AFTERMATH

Alone upon the monotonous ocean's verge

I take my stand, and view with heavy eye

The grey wave rise. I hear its sullen surge,

Its bubbling rush and sudden downward sigh....

My friends are dead... there fades from me the light

Of her warm face I loved; upon me stare

In the dull noon or deadest hour of night

The smiling lips and chill eyes of Despair.

A light wind blows.... I hear the low wave steal

In and collapse like a despondent breath.

My life has ebbed: I neither see nor feel:

I am suspended between life and death.

Again the wave caves in. O, I am worn

Smoother than any pebble on the beach!

I would dissolve to that whence I was born,

Or alway bide beyond the long wave's reach.

O Will, thou only strengthener of man's heart

When all is gone — love and the love of friends,

When even Earth's comfort has become a part

Of that futility nor breaks nor mends:

Strengthen me now against these utmost wrongs;

Stay my wrecked spirit within thy control,

That men may find some fury in my songs

Which, like strong wine, shall fortify the soul.