- Among the Quiet Rows
Near purple valleys, where the amber hills
Roll into sky and rain dies on the breeze
With little sighs, I hear a distant roar
Of breaking waves and rustling cypress trees.
Hush--Whispers slowly move across these grounds
In silver notes; a parting song of grief
That, like sweet incense, rises up to stir
The clouds to rain upon me blest relief.
On tombstones, gleaming white in morning's air,
where grassy knolls appear as resting heads,
I find among the quiet rows--your name.
The ocean's shadowed eerie seaweed beds
Are strewn about; they cling to sleeping coves
Below the cliffs, as though the deepest blue
Was steeped in sorrow from each grave above;
Now, once again, I've come to visit you.
My dreary prayer, on pinions upward bound--
In vain; the earth will loose it to the sky.
But for the restless surf, no voice I hear--
Just rustling cypress branches where you lie.
