Emily Mary Kingston


Time

Yond boatman! Who rules the brine and tide,
And the rolling waves that sweep and ride,
Upon their foamy chariots of mist and dew-
To distant lands cleaved away from view.

The tempestuous ocean waits to embrace
That little boat: the winds all rave-
Through the heart of the still night to trace-
That sign of life to its silent grave.

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