Life's Shipwrecks

Under the wave!
Keel that has girt its furrow round the world,
Canvas to every ocean breeze unfurled,
Cordage that rang like harp-strings to the blast,
Lithe spars that bent and struggled as it past,
Like wrestler's brave
Into the surging gulf of waters cast—
Under the wave!

Under the wave!
Gold that but now unveiled its lustrous gleams
By the wild gullies of Australian streams,
Stout arms that hardly gathered, day by day,
The glittering store for dear one's far away,
Helpless to save—
Washing and seething like the refuse clay,
Under the wave.

Under the wave!
The father from household treasures fair,
Severed in silent agony of prayer;
The dauntless swimmer, who, with straining hand,
Had well nigh grasped a brother's on the land,
The coward slave,
Swept conscience-struck, as by the avenger's hand,
Under the wave!

Under the wave
That heaves upon the restless flood of time,
Our myriad barks, freighted with hopes sublime,
Or idle dreams, thus hour by hour are rolled;
Beauty, or strength, or loving hearts, or gold,
Vainly we crave,
When life's rude gale their parting knell has toll'd,
Under the wave!

Under the wave!
No fragment left of all our cherished store,
No shattered wreck that yet may drift to shore;
Pale cheeks with unavailing tears are wet,
And the heart strives, but cares not to forget
The ocean grave;
Nay, brother, hope and love are deathless yet,
Under the wave!