  By I. L. COSHAM. It was the time when Lenten lilies bloom, And buds are new upon the blackthorn tree; And I, alone in weariness and gloom, Gazed far across the sea. Alone I watched the cheerless daylight wane, And heard the ocean-murmurs swell and rise; Sharp on the window smote the gusty rain, And darker grew the skies. Old love-tones mocked me in the moaning tide, And phantom faces rose upon the dark; The ocean rolled beneath me, black and wide, Without one beacon-spark. I had no hope—I had no comfort left, My soul went out in wailing to the night; When lo, that sable sky was swiftly cleft By one pure shaft of light! A glint of moonlight, silver-bright and clear, Shone on a tossing bark amid the foam; And struggling sailors, worn with toil and fear, Beheld the shores of home. The summer brought me back the love of old, My autumn days were rich with corn and wine; Ah me, what joy the moonlight beam foretold, In that dark hour of mine! But when the golden lilies are in bloom My heart looks backward, and I pause to pray That others, watching lonely in the gloom, May see that silver ray. decorative line |
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