The Sea⁠[3]

Interminable, not to be divined, The ocean’s solemn distances recede; A gospel of glad color to the mind, But for the soul a voice of sterner creed. The sadness of unfathomable things Calls from the waste and makes the heart give heed With answering dirges, as a seashell sings.

Mother of infinite loss! Mother bereft! Thou of the shaken hair! Far-questing Sea! Sea of the lapsing wail of waves! O left Of many lovers! Lone, lamenting Sea! Desolate, prone, disheveled, lost, sublime! Unquelled and reckless! Mad, despairing Sea! Wail, for I wait—wail, ancient dirge of Time!

Stretch wide, O marshes, in your golden joy! Stretch ample, marshes, in serene delight! Proclaiming faith past tempest to destroy, With silent confidence of conscious might! Glad of the blue sky, knowing nor wind nor rain Can do your large indifference despite, Nor lightning mar your tolerant disdain!

The fanfare of the trumpets of the sea Assaults the air with jubilant foray; The intolerable exigence of glee Shouts to the sun and leaps in radiant spray; The laughter of the breakers on the shore Shakes like the mirth of Titans heard at play, With thunders of tumultuous uproar.

Playmate of terrors! Intimate of Doom! Fellow of Fate and Death! Exultant Sea! Thou strong companion of the Sun, make room! Let me make one with you, rough comrade Sea! Sea of the boisterous sport of wind and spray! Sea of the lion mirth! Sonorous Sea! I hear thy shout, I know what thou wouldst say.

Dauntless, triumphant, reckless of alarms, O Queen that laughest Time and Fear to scorn, Death, like a bridegroom, tosses in thine arms. The rapture of your fellowship is borne Like music on the wind. I hear the blare, The calling of the undesisting horn, And tremors as of trumpets on the air.