LACK-LUSTRE eye, and idle wing, <br />And smirchèd breast that skims no more, <br />White as the foam itself, the wave-- <br />Hast thou not even a grave <br />Upon the dreary shore, <br />Forlorn, forsaken thing? <br /> <br />Thou whom the deep seas could not drown, <br />Nor all the elements affright, <br />Flashing like thought across the main, <br />Mocking the hurricane, <br />Screaming with shrill delight <br />When the great ship went down. <br /> <br />Thee not thy beauty saved, nor mirth, <br />Nor daring, nor thy humble lot, <br />One among thousands--in quick haste <br />Fate clutched thee as she passed; <br />Dead--how, it matters not: <br />Corrupting, earth to earth. <br /> <br />And not a league from where it lies <br />Lie bodies once as free from stain, <br />And hearts as gay as this sea-bird's, <br />Whom all the preachers' words <br />Will ne'er make white again, <br />Or from the dead to rise. <br /> <br />Rot, pretty bird, in harmless clay:-- <br />We sing too much poetic woes; <br />Let us be doing while we can: <br />Blessed the Christian man <br />Who on life's shore seeks those <br />Dying of soul decay.<br /><br />Dinah Maria Mulock Craik<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-dead-sea-gull/
