I Am Content.

("J'habite l'ombre.")     [1855.]         True; I dwell lone,             Upon sea-beaten cape,         Mere raft of stone;             Whence all escape     Save one who shrinks not from the gloom,     And will not take the coward's leap i' the tomb.         My bedroom rocks             With breezes; quakes in storms,         When dangling locks             Of seaweed mock the forms     Of straggling clouds that trail o'erhead     Like tresses from disrupted coffin-lead.         Upon the sky             Crape palls are often nailed         With stars. Mine eye             Has scared the gull that sailed     To blacker depths with shrillest scream,     Still fainter, till like voices in a dream.         My days become             More plaintive, wan, and pale,         While o'er the foam             I see, borne by the gale,     Infinity! in kindness sent -     To find me ever saying: "I'm content!"