Sonnet Xii

I STAND beside the waves,--the mournful waves,-- Where thou didst stand in silence and in fear, For thou wert train'd by custom's haughty slaves, And love, from such as I, disdain'd to hear; Yet, with the murmur of the echoing sea, And the monotonous billows, rolling on, Were mingled sounds of weeping,--for in thee All nature was not harden'd into stone: And from the shore there came a distant chime From the old village-clock;--ah! since that day, Like a dull passing-bell each stroke of time Falls on my heart; and in the ocean spray A voice of lamentation seems to dwell, As in that bitter hour of agonised farewell!