Page:Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (1895).djvu/293

Rh ::The tent-ropes flapped, the long beach churned
 * Its waves to foam; on either hand
 * Stretched, far as sight, the hills of sand;

With bays of marsh, and capes of bush and tree, The wood’s black shore-line loomed beyond the meadowy sea.


 * The lady rose to leave. “One song,
 * Or hymn,” they urged, “before we part.”
 * And she, with lips to which belong
 * Sweet intuitions of all art,
 * Gave to the winds of night a strain
 * Which they who heard would hear again;

And to her voice the solemn ocean lent, Touching its harp of sand, a deep accompaniment.