UNREST.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume IX, Issue 8, 20 February 1892, Page 179

UNREST.

She dwelt by the ocean, a fisherman’s child, Unlearned save in lore of the seas and the skies, And the haunt of the seabird white-breasted and wild, And the blue of the sea had crept into her eyes And its fearlessness into her breast. Year by year the great waves thundered on to the shore. And ever rose shrieking the wild sea mew, Till the fisherman’s child was a child no more, But a girl with a face that was fair to view, And a heart that was full of unrest. Then love came and wooed her with words soft and low, And lingering caresses, and kisses that stole The strength from her hands, and with eyes ail aglow For the sweetness of love had come into her soul She followed her love away. And the great steaming city seemed paved with gold, Because of the happiness born of her love, The restless desires, and the wild thoughts of old Were folded in peace like the wings of a dove, And fairer she grew day by day. But the joy that was in her welled forth in a strain So wondrous, that all the world listening stood, And the old heart awoke and grew restless again, For the fever of glory had entered her blood, And poisoned the sweet flowing stream. Love was forsaken, for all the swift hours Were laden with homage and gilded with praise: Men lauded her beauty and crowned her with flowers, And the eyes of the world were upon her always, And life was a feverish dream. Unsatisfied still, with the old restless pain She flung away glory, all valueless now. And called upon one, who replied not again, And the shadow of sorrow hung over her brow, And darkened her beautiful eyes. And hateful the sound of music grew, Hateful the sight of the staring crowd, And the flowers and the jewels aside she threw ; With w’hite arms extended she called aloud For one who was deaf to her cries. Then weeping she said, ‘ Take me back to the sea, Away from the glare of the stifling town.’ At the sight of the billows she laughed in glee, But the darkness of death came stealthily down And hid her white face away. Beat on, restless ocean, she hears you no more : Scream on, oh, wild seabird, whirling above. For mute is her music, her glory is o’er, And another is knowing the sweetness of love. And the old world laughs and is gay.