SEA MURMURS. 



F. P. CARRIGAN. 



The sea was calm when the boats went out, 



Not a cloud obscured the sky; 

 But the waves now roll with a joyous shout. 

 As they toss the rain and the spray about, 

 Till they break on rocks near by. 

 The storm-bells chime 

 In mournful rhyme 

 Out on the mid-day gale; 

 Across the deep 

 The chill winds sweep 

 To breathe a woful tale, 

 To one who stands 

 Upon the sands, 

 Watching a far-off sail, 



Who slumber and dream neath the sea-weed 



brown, 

 Where the storms of life can nevermore 

 frown. 

 Nor angry passions rave. 



The storm is past, 

 No clouds o'er-cast 

 A sky that now has grown 



Warm with a light 

 That's shining bright, — 

 The waves have ceased to moan; 



Which now appears on a mount of spray, 



Then sinks, — but God knows where; 

 For the waves roll on as they do alway, 

 When the storms of heav 'n come with them to play, 

 Till they . reach the shore, and there 

 A maiden stands 

 With clasped hands, 

 Praying for one who is gone fore'er! 



Two days have passed since the boat went down 

 With its crew of seamen brave, 



334 



J5H 



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