A Ghost.Long ago, Mighty waters marched with weary Ebb and flow. Stately ships, perhaps, did wander Back and forth, Mighty ice-flows drift and thunder From the North. Now, where roiled that restless ocean, Long ago, Tides of green, with ceaseless motion, Meet and flow. And this gentle, mystic murmur Of the dawn Is the voice of billows firmer That are gone. And the wraith of that old billow Is the haze, Floating softly through the mellow Autumn days. Amethystine, when the golden Sun is low, As the waves were in that olden Long ago. Mighty plain ! where greenly waving Waters meet, Thou art still an ocean, laving At my feet! __Albert Bigelow Paine. |
Visit the Home Page for Kansas