Anniversary of the Loss of H.M.S. Tweed <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Oh, what relief to gaze on yonder sky, <br /> Where all is holy, calm, and purely bright! <br />Within, the sound of mirth and revelry <br /> Startles the timid ear of sober night. <br /> <br /> <br />And eyes are bright and silver voices thrill, <br /> As the harp echoes through the glittering hall; <br />The jest is there that wakes the laugh at will, <br /> And mirth has cast her fairy spell o'er all. <br /> <br /> <br />I turn, fair spirit of light! where peaceful thou <br /> Art shining in unatler'd majesty; <br />The thin clouds float across thy placid brow, <br /> And catch its silver beam in passing by. <br /> <br />To-night!—oh! on this night—nor many years <br /> Have wasted, since in sad regret and pain, <br />Upon the wave, the sound of woe, and tears, <br /> And frantic pray'rs arose—arose in vain! <br /> <br /> <br />Thy light was shrouded then in deepest gloom; <br /> On that dark coast no friendly radiance shone <br />To warn the victims of their gaping tomb— <br /> Despair and death and horror reign'd alone! <br /> <br /> <br />Shine on, shine on, thou treacherous planet still; <br /> Gild with thy beams the now untroubled wave: <br />Alas! thou fair and fatal cause of ill, <br /> Thy smiles are lovely—but too late to save!<br /><br />Louisa Stuart Costello<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/november-fifth/
