THE RAINBOW on the ocean
A moment bright,
The nightingale’s devotion
That dies on night,

Eve’s rosy star a-tremble
Its hour of light,—
All things that love resemble
Too soon take flight.

The violets we cherish
Died in the spring;
Roses and lilies perish
In what they bring;
And joy and beauty wholly
With life depart;
But love leaves slow, how slowly!
Life’s empty heart.

O, strange to me, and wondrous,
The storm passed by,
With sound of voices thund’rous
Swept from the sky;
But stranger, love, thy fashion,—
O, tell me why
Art thou, dark storm of passion,
So slow to die?

As roll the billowy ridges
When the great gale has blown o’er;
As the long winter-dirges
From frozen branches pour;
As the whole sea’s harsh December
Pounds on the pine-hung shore;
So will love’s deep remember,
So will deep love deplore.