LOW TIDE
A STRETCH of beach bared to the sinking sun,
Rocks slimed with sea-weed, and a wet
Black spar, lone derelict from some old wreck
The storms claimed for a sea-god's debt.
Nothing but ugliness where'er I tracked the sand—
Nothing but ooze and mud. My dim eyes ached.
Then suddenly amid the swirl
Of broken shells and weeds and dreary drift
I found a white and priceless pearl,
Left for me by the tide.
Rocks slimed with sea-weed, and a wet
Black spar, lone derelict from some old wreck
The storms claimed for a sea-god's debt.
Nothing but ugliness where'er I tracked the sand—
Nothing but ooze and mud. My dim eyes ached.
Then suddenly amid the swirl
Of broken shells and weeds and dreary drift
I found a white and priceless pearl,
Left for me by the tide.
Long days and nights bereft of sun and stars,
Gray skies with grayer thoughts and fears,
And Failure, spectre-like and evil-eyed,
That haunted all the shadowed years.
Nothing in life but heart ache and despair—
Nothing but toil and pain—My soul was sick!
Then sudden in the gray above
A rift of blue; and 'mid the close-set thorns
I saw, full blown, the rose of Love
Waiting my outstretched hand.
Gray skies with grayer thoughts and fears,
And Failure, spectre-like and evil-eyed,
That haunted all the shadowed years.
Nothing in life but heart ache and despair—
Nothing but toil and pain—My soul was sick!
Then sudden in the gray above
A rift of blue; and 'mid the close-set thorns
I saw, full blown, the rose of Love
Waiting my outstretched hand.