Part 4 (1/2)

_October 19, 1880._

_OFF Sh.o.r.e._

When the might of the summer Is most on the sea; When the days overcome her With joy but to be, With rapture of royal enchantment, and sorcery that sets her not free,

But for hours upon hours As a thrall she remains Spell-bound as with flowers And content in their chains, And her loud steeds fret not, and lift not a lock of their deep white manes;

Then only, far under In the depths of her hold, Some gleam of its wonder Man's eye may behold, Its wild-weed forests of crimson and russet and olive and gold.

Still deeper and dimmer And goodlier they glow For the eyes of the swimmer Who scans them below As he crosses the zone of their flowerage that knows not of suns.h.i.+ne and snow.

Soft blossomless frondage And foliage that gleams As to prisoners in bondage The light of their dreams, The desire of a dawn unbeholden, with hope on the wings of its beams.

Not as prisoners entombed Waxen haggard and wizen, But consoled and illumed In the depths of their prison With delight of the light everlasting and vision of dawn on them risen,

From the banks and the beds Of the waters divine They lift up their heads And the flowers of them s.h.i.+ne Through the splendour of darkness that clothes them of water that glimmers like wine.

Bright bank over bank Making glorious the gloom, Soft rank upon rank, Strange bloom after bloom, They kindle the liquid low twilight, the dusk of the dim sea's womb.

Through the subtle and tangible Gloom without form, Their branches, infrangible Ever of storm Spread softer their sprays than the shoots of the woodland when April is warm.

As the flight of the thunder, full Charged with its word, Dividing the wonderful Depths like a bird, Speaks wrath and delight to the heart of the night that exults to have heard,

So swiftly, though soundless In silence's ear, Light, winged from the boundless Blue depths full of cheer, Speaks joy to the heart of the waters that part not before him, but hear.

Light, perfect and visible G.o.dhead of G.o.d, G.o.d indivisible, Lifts but his rod, And the shadows are scattered in sunder, and darkness is light at his nod.

At the touch of his wand, At the nod of his head From the s.p.a.ces beyond Where the dawn hath her bed, Earth, water, and air are transfigured, and rise as one risen from the dead.

He puts forth his hand, And the mountains are thrilled To the heart as they stand In his presence, fulfilled With his glory that utters his grace upon earth, and her sorrows are stilled.

The moan of her travail That groans for the light Till dayspring unravel The weft of the night, At the sound of the strings of the music of morning, falls dumb with delight.

He gives forth his word, And the word that he saith, Ere well it be heard, Strikes darkness to death; For the thought of his heart is the sunrise, and dawn as the sound of his breath.

And the strength of its pulses That pa.s.sion makes proud Confounds and convulses The depths of the cloud Of the darkness that heaven was engirt with, divided and rent as a shroud,

As the veil of the shrine Of the temple of old When darkness divine Over noonday was rolled; So the heart of the night by the pulse of the light is convulsed and controlled.

And the sea's heart, groaning For glories withdrawn, And the waves' mouths, moaning All night for the dawn, Are uplift as the hearts and the mouths of the singers on leaside and lawn.

And the sound of the quiring Of all these as one, Desired and desiring Till dawn's will be done, Fills full with delight of them heaven till it burns as the heart of the sun.

Till the waves too inherit And waters take part In the sense of the spirit That breathes from his heart, And are kindled with music as fire when the lips of the morning part,

With music unheard In the light of her lips, In the life-giving word Of the dewfall that drips On the gra.s.ses of earth, and the wind that enkindles the wings of the s.h.i.+ps.