Джордж Эссекс Эванс (George Essex Evans)

By the Sea

Bright skies of summer o’er the deep,
And soft salt air along the land,
The blue wave, lisping in its sleep,
Sinks gently on the yellow sand;
And gray-winged seagulls slowly sweep
O’er scattered bush and white-limbed tree
Where the red cliffs like bastions stand
To front the salvos of the sea,
Now lulled by its own melody.
Yonder the rising waters ride,
O’er ironstone masses, celled and worn;
There, gnarled and bent by wind and tide,
A single mangrove stands forlorn,
Alone in melancholy pride
A symbol of the soul of man
In Life’s wild surges tossed and torn,
That yearns amid the battle’s van
For the vast good it may not scan.

Along this silent shining sand
Come, brother of my heart, with me,
Tho’ I have never felt thine hand
And tho’ thine eyes I ne’er may see,
Yet somewhere or by sea or land
Thine heart and mine keep equal beat,
And in Life’s strange eternity
Responsive souls perchance may meet,
And know each other ere they greet.

Begone regret and carking care
That to the murky world belong
The chimes of earth and sea and air
Ring softened here to elfin song.
Come, friend of solitude, to where
The low dark jetty meets the blaze
Of sky and waters slumbering long,
Here let us dream while ocean plays
The mystic chants of golden days. 

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