Poem by Albert Laighton

Ebb and Flow

I wandered alone beside the stream;
The tide was out and the sands were bare;
The tremulous tone of the sea-bird's scream
Like a winged arrow pierced the air.

I roamed till the sun in the west was low,
And the robes of twilight trailed in the sea;
The waves pulsed in with a rhythmical flow,
And a song from the woodland came to me.

All day I roam by the stream of Song;
The tide is out, and my life is bare,
While shadows of evil round me throng.
And drearily croaks the bird of Care.

But at night the waves roll back again,
And flow in music over my heart,
Till the dusky phantoms of grief and pain
From the charmed shores of my brain depart.

1. The Necropolis
2. On a Lock of Farragut’s Hair
3. Frost-Work
4. The Lengthening Day
5. To T. B. A.

Rose Cooke Ebb and Flow ("'Tis something to have turned the tide")

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