Seaward

A rock-bound shore

     A mellow sea,

     And purple air

With gulls awing;

O sullen roar,

     A maiden free

In waiting there

     With cupid King.

A barren stretch,

An angry sea,

And autumn chill,

     With skies of lead;

A wand’ring wretch,

A hell to be,

A heart to kill,

     And cupid dead.

Sept. 1^st, 1897

B. Globe, Nov. 9, ‘98