Waves, Waves, Waves

Waves, waves, waves,
Graceful arches lit with night's pale gold,
Boom like thunder thro' the mountain roll'd;
Hiss, and make their music manifold,
Sing, and work for God along the strand.

 

Leaves, leaves, leaves,
Beautified by Autumn's withering breath;
Ivory skeletons, carven fair by death,
Float and drift at a sublime command.

 

Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts,
Beating wavelike on the mind's strange shore,
Rustling leaf-like through it evermore--
Oh that they might follow God's good hand!