Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
Sea-Weeds
By Annie Chambers Ketchum (18241904)F
Beneath the citron-tree—
Deep calling to my soul’s profounder deep—
I hear the Mexique Sea.
Along the spectral sands,
And all the air vibrates, as if from harps
Touched by phantasmal hands.
Lean to the yucca’s bells,
While with her chrism of dew sad Midnight fills
The milk-white asphodels.
I count the stars that set,
Each writing on my soul some memory deep
Of pleasure or regret;
Waiting for dawn of day;
And chanting sea, and asphodel, and star,
Are faded, all away.
Brought unto me by thee—
I clasp these beautiful and fragile things,
Bright sea-weeds from the sea.
Pure shine the stars by night,
And grandly sing the grand Atlantic waves
In thunder-throated might;
The murmur of the sea,
So the deep echoing memories of my home
Will not depart from me.
As I have seen them cast
Like a drowned woman’s hair along the sands
When storms were overpast;
In battle’s storm and blight.
Would they could die, like sea-weed! Bear with me,
But I must weep to-night.