At Dawn

THE night-long clamour of winds grew still; The forest rested, its foes withdrawn; On sounding ocean and silent hill There crept a sense of the coming dawn. A bird awoke on a leaning limb And fluttered its plumes a moment's space; Dark purple lay on the sea's far rim: The sky grew pale as a dying face. Then all the trees and the rocks and heights With wondering faces watched the East: It seemed an altar hung with lights And waiting for a vestured priest. And in that intimate first hour When land and sea rejoiced as one, And Nature, like an opening flower, Gave incense, came the burning sun. Yet, while the hour of gold went by, I saw through all its pageantry The vast indifference of the sky, The heartless beauty of the sea. For wet and wan, and cold and sped Beyond the breakers' reach of pearl, There lay a strong man drowned and dead, And in his arms a drowned white girl.