THE INCOMING TIDE

MARIE RUSSELL.

When evening steeps the world in rest,
A sigh steals from the sea's deep breast
Like echo of an ocean's roar.
What means this sound from far-off shore,
Brought home by the incoming tide?

Can it be grief for words unsaid?
Is it the pain of tears unshed?
The longed-for truth we never knew?
The ghost of dreams that proved untrue?

The murmur borne across the sea
Is faith that lives eternally,
The hope of things that are to be,—
'Tis Love, unbounded, wide, and free,
Brought home by the incoming tide.