Amongst the thunder-splintered caves <br />On Ocean's long and windy shore, <br />I catch the voice of dying waves <br />Below the ridges old and hoar; <br />The spray descends in silver showers, <br />And lovely whispers come and go, <br />Like echoes from the happy hours <br />I never more may hope to know! <br />The low mimosa droops with locks <br />Of yellow hair, in dewy glade, <br />While far above the caverned rocks <br />I hear the dark Bellambi's Maid! <br /> <br />The moonlight dreams upon the sail <br />That drives the restless ship to sea; <br />The clouds troop past the mountain vale, <br />And sink like spirits down the lee; <br />The foggy peak of Corrimal, <br />Uplifted, bears the pallid glow <br />That streams from yonder airy hall <br />And robes the sleeping hills below; <br />The wandering meteors of the sky <br />Beneath the distant waters wade, <br />While mystic music hurries by - <br />The songs of dark Bellambi's Maid! <br /> <br />Why comes your voice, you lonely One, <br />Along the wild harp's wailing strings? <br />Have not our hours of meeting gone, <br />Like fading dreams on phantom wings? <br />Are not the grasses round your grave <br />Yet springing green and fresh to view? <br />And does the gleam on Ocean's wave <br />Tide gladness now to me and you? <br />Oh! cold and cheerless falls the night <br />On withered hearts and hopes decayed: <br />And I have seen but little light <br />Since died the dark Bellambi's Maid!<br /><br />Henry Kendall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bellambi-s-maid/
