We two were lovers, the Sea and I;
We plighted our troth 'neath a summer sky.
And all through the riotous, ardent weather
We dreamed, and loved, and rejoiced together.
. . . . . .
At times my lover would rage and storm.
I said: 'No matter, his heart is warm.'
Whatever his humour, I loved his ways,
And so we lived through the golden days.
I know not the manner it came about,
But in the autumn we two fell out.
Yet this I know--'twas the fault of the Sea,
And was not my fault, that he changed to me.
. . . . . .
I lingered as long as a woman may
To find what her lover will do or say.
But he met my smiles with a sullen frown,
And so I turned to the wooing Town.
Oh, bold was this suitor, and blithe as bold!
His look was as bright as the Sea's was cold.
As the Sea was sullen, the Town was gay;
He made me forget for a winter day.
For a winter day and a winter night
He laughed my sorrow away from sight.
And yet, in spite of his mirth and cheer,
I knew full well he was insincere.
And when the young buds burst on the tree,
The old love woke in my heart for the Sea.
Pride was forgotten--I knew, I knew,
That the soul of the Sea, like my own, was true.
I heard him calling, and lo! I came,
To find him waiting, for ever the same.
And when he saw me, with murmurs sweet
He ran to meet me, and fell at my feet.
And so again 'neath a summer sky
We have plighted our troth, the Sea and I.
Poems. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London: Gay and Hancock, [n.d.]
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