William Lisle Bowles
¶[1762-1850]
414 Dover Cliffs
¶ON these white cliffs, that calm above the floodUplift their shadowy heads, and at their feetScarce hear the surge that has for ages beat,Sure many a lonely wanderer has stood;And while the distant murmur met his ear,And o'er the distant billows the still eveSailed slow, has thought of all his heart must leaveTo-morrow; of the friends he loved most dear;Of social scenes from which he wept to part.But if, like me, he knew how fruitless allThe thoughts that would full fain the past recall;Soon would he quell the risings of his heart,And brave the wild winds and unhearing tide,The world his country, and his God his guide.