Shapes of Clay

  Grief for an absent lover, husband, friend,
  Is barely felt before it comes to end: 
  A score of early consolations serve
  To modify its mouth’s dejected curve. 
  But woes of creditors when debtors flee
  Forever swell the separating sea. 
  When standing on an alien shore you mark
  The steady course of some intrepid bark,
  How sweet to think a tear for you abides,
  Not all unuseful, in the wave she rides!—­
  That sighs for you commingle in the gale
  Beneficently bellying her sail!

FORESIGHT.

  An “actors’ cemetery”!  Sure
    The devil never tires
  Of planning places to procure
  The sticks to feed his fires.