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Updated: May 17, 2025
Back to their wonted channels rolled, In crystal calm the waves behold One smile on sea and sky! All softly breaks the rippling tide, Low-murmuring on the rocky land, And playful wavelets gently float A corpse upon the strand! 'Tis he! who even in death would still Not fail the sweet vow to fulfil; She looks sees knows him there!
There was something threatening in the aspect of both earth and sky; something louring, conspiring, as if some dread fate were awaiting this intruding stranger; at times he fancied he could hear low-murmuring voices, the first mutterings of distant thunder. What if some red bolt of lightning were suddenly to sever this blackness in twain and reveal its hidden and awful secrets?
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