I.
I walk again beside the roaring sea,
And once again I harken to the speech
Of waves exulting on the madden'd beach.
A sound of awful joy it seems to me,
A shuddering sound of God's eternity,—
Telling of things beyond the sage's reach.
II.
I walk alone. I see the bounding waves
Curl'd into foam. I watch them as they leap
Like wild sea-horses loosen'd from the deep.
And well I know that they have seen the graves
Of shipwreck'd sailors; for Disaster paves
The fearful fields where reapers cannot reap.
III.
Out there, in islands where the summer sun
Goes down in tempest, there are loathsome things
That crawl to shore, and flap unsightly wings.
But here there are no monsters that can run
To catch the limbs of bathers; no! not one;
And here the wind is harmless when it stings.
IV.
There is a glamour all about the bay,
As if the nymphs of Greece had tarried here.
The sands are golden, and the rocks appear
Crested with silver; and the breezes play
Snatches of song they humm'd when far away,
And then are hush'd, as if from sudden fear.
V.
They think of thee. They hunt; they meditate.
They will not quit the shore till they have seen
The very spot where thou did'st stand serene
In all thy beauty; and of me they prate,
Knowing I love thee. And, like one elate,
The grand old sea remembers what hath been.