The Rocky Islet

Perchance, far out at sea, thou may'st have foundSome lean, bald cliff—a lonely patch of ground,Alien amidst the waters:—some poor IsleWhere summer blooms were never known to smile,Or trees to yield their verdure—yet, aroundThat barren spot, the dimpling surges throng,Cheering it with their low and plaintive song,And clasping the deserted cast-awayIn a most strict embrace—and all alongIts margin, rendering freely its arrayOf treasured shell and coral. Thus we mayNote love in faithful woman; oft amongThe rudest shocks of life's wide sea she sharesMan's lot, and more than half his burden bearsAround whose path are flowers, strewn by her tender cares.