Sunken Gold

In dim green depths rot ingot-laden ships;

And gold doubloons, that from the drowned hand fell,

Lie nestled in the ocean-flower's bell

With love's old gifts, once kissed by long-drowned 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 restless 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.