Volume Iii Part 60 (1/2)
And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward. From a boy I wantoned with thy breakers,--they to me Were a delight; and if the freshening sea Made them a terror, 'twas a pleasing fear; For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane,--as I do here.
George Gordon Byron [1788-1824]
ON THE SEA
It keeps eternal whisperings around Desolate sh.o.r.es, and with its mighty swell Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.
Often 'tis in such gentle temper found, That scarcely will the very smallest sh.e.l.l Be moved for days from whence it sometime fell, When last the winds of heaven were unbound.
Oh ye! who have your eye-b.a.l.l.s vexed and tired, Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea; Oh ye! whose ears are dinned with uproar rude, Or fed too much with cloying melody,-- Sit ye near some old cavern's mouth, and brood Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs quired!
John Keats [1795-1821]
”WITH s.h.i.+PS THE SEA WAS SPRINKLED”
With s.h.i.+ps the sea was sprinkled far and nigh, Like stars in heaven, and joyously it showed; Some lying fast at anchor in the road, Some veering up and down, one knew not why.
A goodly vessel did I then espy Come like a giant from a haven broad; And l.u.s.tily along the bay she strode, Her tackling rich, and of apparel high.
This s.h.i.+p was naught to me, nor I to her, Yet I pursued her with a lover's look; This s.h.i.+p to all the rest did I prefer: When will she turn, and whither? She will brook No tarrying; where she comes the winds must stir: On went she,--and due north her journey took.
William Wordsworth [1770-1850]
A SONG OF DESIRE
Thou dreamer with the million moods, Of restless heart like me, Lay thy white hands against my breast And cool its pain, O Sea!
O wanderer of the unseen paths, Restless of heart as I, Blow hither, from thy caves of blue, Wind of the healing sky!
O treader of the fiery way, With pa.s.sionate heart like mine, Hold to my lips thy healthful cup Brimmed with its blood-red wine!
O countless watchers of the night, Of sleepless heart like me, Pour your white beauty in my soul, Till I grow calm as ye!
O sea, O sun, O wind and stars, (O hungry heart that longs!) Feed my starved lips with life, with love, And touch my tongue with songs!
Frederic Lawrence Knowles [1869-1905]
THE PINES AND THE SEA
Beyond the low marsh-meadows and the beach, Seen through the h.o.a.ry trunks of windy pines, The long blue level of the ocean s.h.i.+nes.
The distant surf, with hoa.r.s.e, complaining speech, Out from its sandy barrier seems to reach; And while the sun behind the woods declines, The moaning sea with sighing boughs combines, And waves and pines make answer, each to each.