SUNKEN GOLD.

In dim green depths rot ingot-laden ships, While gold doubloons that from the drowned hand fell Lie nestled in the ocean-flower’s bell With Love’s gemmed rings once kissed by now dead lips. And round some wrought-gold cup the sea-grass whips And hides lost pearls, near pearls still in their shell, Where sea-weed forests fill each ocean dell, And seek dim sunlight with their countless tips. So lie the wasted gifts, the long-lost hopes, Beneath the now hushed surface of myself, In lonelier depths than where the diver gropes. They lie deep, deep; but I at times behold In doubtful glimpses, on some reefy shelf, The gleam of irrecoverable gold.