THE FIELD BY THE SEA

On a grey day by the sea,
I looked from the window and saw
The beautiful companies of the daisies bow
And toss in the gusty flaw.

For the wind was in from sea;

The heavy scuds ran low;
And all the makers of holiday were abashed,
Caught in the easterly blow.

My heart, too, is a field,
Peopled with shining forms,

As the heart of a little child,—

They dance to the rune of the world,
The star-trodden ageless rune,
Glad as the wind-blown multitudes of the grass,
White as the daisies in June.

But over them, ah, what storms,—
In from the unknown sea,
The uncharted and ever-sounding desolate main
We have called Eternity!

They shudder and quake and are torn,

As the stormy moods race by.
And then in the teeth of remorse, the tempestuous lull,
Once more the hardy cry:

"Fear not, little folk of my heart,
Nor let the great hope in you fail!