Classic Poem

WIND AND WAVE

Night: and I lean where the sea sings. —

There shall be nought of all these things
that vex my rest nor seem to tire
tho' my winds buffet in their wings
and waves spurn them with lips of ire.

(When will they howl, the ships of Tyre?)

There shall be nought of all these lands
nor shall their insolence endure:
surely I waste them with no hands
and change to something secret, pure.

(When will the world be sea, and pure?)

There shall be nought but my dim glass
that dreams at peace till time be o'er
and the dread nuptial lightning pass
once, and there shall be sea no more.

(O when will there be sea no more?)