THE MOTHER WHO HAS A CHILD AT SEA.
There's an eye that looks on the swelling cloud,
Folding the moon in a funeral shroud,
That watches the stars dying one by one,
Till the whole of heaven's calm light hath gone.
There's an ear that lists to the hissing surge,
As the mourner turns to the anthem dirge:
That eye that ear! oh, whose can they be,
But a mother's who hath a child at sea?
Folding the moon in a funeral shroud,
That watches the stars dying one by one,
Till the whole of heaven's calm light hath gone.
There's an ear that lists to the hissing surge,
As the mourner turns to the anthem dirge:
That eye that ear! oh, whose can they be,
But a mother's who hath a child at sea?
23
