The Waves At Midnight Poem by Silas Weir Mitchell

THE CLIFFS, NEWPORT

SEEN in the night by
Their snows, as they crush,
Evermore saying—
Hush—hush—hush—
They fall, and they die,
Break, and perish, without reply.

And are not and are,
And come back again
With the sob and throb
Of a constant pain,
And snatch from afar
The tremulous light of a single star.

Always the cliffs hear,
How mournfully sweet
Their murmurous music,
Their cry of defeat,
As near and more near
They shiver and die in darkness drear.

Bleaker the cliffs be,
And blacker the night,
Where tender with sorrow,
Where eager for light,
The waves of life's sea
Wail, crushed at an answerless cliff-wall for me.