On The Cliff
F
Frederick George Scott
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I SEE the great blue ocean kiss the sky
Far to the South, I hear the sea-gulls wail
Among the crags, while underneath the sail
Goes swiftly by.
The sun looks down upon the twinkling sea;
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I hear the waters breaking far below;
And all is joyous, save the cloud of woe
That hangs o'er me.
The loving sky can every kiss the sea,
The ripple and the zephyr never part;
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Then why—oh, why—should thy sweet loving heart
Be torn from me?
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