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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Closely cling, for waves beat fast, Foam flakes cloud the hurrying blast, Love alone will last. "Kiss my lips and softly say, 'Joy, sea-swept, may fade to-day; Love alone will stay." Sylvia's hands were pressed to her eyes when the song was finished, and her aunt looked at her curiously, for she saw that she could not speak.
The only Love that bred peace, the peace that passeth understanding. Winds and waves sang on: "Joy, sea-swept may fade to-day; Love alone will stay." and above the human sweetness of the song Sylvia felt that there dwelt a deeper, higher meaning, but she could not attain to it now. Thought was pain. What she longed to do was to wipe the last week from her remembrance. The last week.
"Closely cling, for waves beat fast, Foam flakes cloud the hurrying blast, Love alone will last. "Kiss my lips and softly say, 'Joy, sea-swept, may fade to-day; Love alone will stay."
The Belgian ruler had taken refuge in this bleak, sea-swept corner of Belgium and the only part of the country that had escaped the invader. He lived in a little châlet near the beach. Every day the King walked up and down on the sands while German aeroplanes flew overhead and the roar of the guns at Dixmude smote the ear.
How it must be with the poor devils for'ard is beyond conceiving. The forecastle has been washed out several times, and everything is soaking wet. Besides, they have grown weaker, and two watches are required to do what one ordinary watch could do. Thus, they must spend as many hours on the sea-swept deck and aloft on the freezing yards as I do in my warm, dry bunk.
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