Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.
Alice E. GillingtonThe Doom-Bar
O
Did you hear it mourn in the dimorts, when the surf woke up and sighed?
The choughs screamed on the sand,
And the foam flew over land,
And the seas rolled dark on the Doom-Bar at rising of the tide.
To mind him of old Padstow town, where loving souls abide;
’T was a ring with the words set
All round, “Can Love Forget?”
And I watched his vessel toss on the Bar with the outward-turning tide.
And his vessel has never crossed the Bar from the purple seas outside;
And down the shell-pink sands,
Where we once went, holding hands,
Alone I watch the Doom-Bar and the rising of the tide.
So soft and wild as sea-gulls when they ’re playing seek-and-hide,
Coaxed me out—for the tides were lower
Than had ever been known before;
And we ran across the Doom-Bar, all white and shining wide.
Around a rosy scallop; and gold a ring lay inside;
And around its rim were set
The words “Can Love Forget?”—
And there upon the Doom-Bar I knelt and sobbed and cried.
But O! St. Petrock bells will never ring me home a bride!—
For the night my lad was leavin’
Me, all tearful-eyed and grievin’,
He had tossed my keepsake out on the Bar to the rise and fall of the tide!
Did you hear them call in the dimorts, when the surf woke up and sighed?
Maybe it is a token
I shall go no more heart-broken—
And I shall cross the Doom-Bar at the turning of the tide.