by Royal Rosamond
The tide was low today, my love
A cadence of the sea was wrought
In melancholy strain, and low and fraught
With whisperings of your name above
The deep sea song!
A shell that lured along the shore
Whispered; “I love you evermore!”
I wrote your name upon the sands –
Would that I traced with gentle hands –
The minor chords were wont to spell
Each syllable!
The tide is high tonight, my dear.
The rock-bound shore loves the wave
But sends it dying to its grave.
The low base notes vie with the fear
The wind send on
The all-encircling gloom
Descended o’er old ocean’s tomb!
Your name is gone tonight, my love:
The angry surge rushed in above.
It cries aloud, with sea gull’s shrill
“I love you still!”
Reblogged this on Rosamond Press and commented:
I told Rosemary I was going to read this poem at the funeral. She said it would not be appropriate. I knew then something was warong. Now I know – what! When you read how Christine died, and why the cover-up, you will be appalled! The whole art world will be in shock.