The gray waves rock against the gray skyline, And break complaining on the long gray sand, Here where I sit, who cannot understand Their voice of pain, nor this dumb pain of mine; For I, who thought to fare till my days end, Armed sorrow-proof in sorrow, having known How hearts bleed slow when brave lips make no moan, How Life can torture, how Death may befriend When Love entreats him hasten,—even I, Who feared no human anguish that may be, I cannot bear the grief of the sea, I cannot bear the still grief of the sky.
When Nature Hath Betrayed the Heart That Loved Her
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