Page:The West Indies, and Other Poems.djvu/160

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Like shooting stars, athwart the gloomThe merchant-sails were sped;Yet oft, before its midnight doom,They mark'd the high mast headOf that devoted vessel, tostBy winds and floods, now seen, now lost;While every gun-fire spreadA dimmer flash, a fainter roar;—At length they saw, they heard no more.
There are to whom that ship was dear,For love and kindred's sake;When these the voice of Rumour hear,Their inmost heart shall quake,Shall doubt, and fear, and wish, and grieve,Believe, and long to unbelieve,But never cease to ache;Still doom'd, in sad suspense, to bearThe Hope that keeps alive Despair.
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