Classic Poem

I WONDER not men fabled as they did,
In that old rapture of Hellenic days,
Of Venus as the daughter of the Sea,
From its white foam upspringing, full of grace.

For I have watched thy beauty hour by hour,
Lying at thy dear side all hushed and still,
Bidding thee work on me thy secret spells,
And with thy fulness all my being fill.

" Ay, sea-born beauty, but how sea-born love? "
I hear the doubter question and confess.
But who, still young, has wandered by thy side,
The old Hellenic riddle well may guess.

Thou art the mother of all tender thoughts,
Of longings and of infinite desires;
The yearning of thy never-ending plaint
A kindred yearning in our souls inspires.

When youths and maidens walk thy shining strand,
And listen to thy harmonies and hymns,
There is a mist that is not of the sea
That gathers fast and all their vision dims.

Their speech is silence, but it tells a tale
Of that which makes the merry world go round;
Thou dost interpret for them every thought
Which, sudden, they in their fresh hearts have found.

And so thou art the lover's go-between;
So love that knows itself is born of thee;
And hearts already pledged become more fond
While listening to thy murmurings, O Sea!

Ay, love is born of thee, and deeper love
Than ever flows to any human goal, —
Love of that Spirit who in every tide
Hints at the deeper currents of the soul.

We love thee best, since thou art type of Him:
Thou freshening earth as she through space is hurled,
And He, the ocean of the universe,
Freshening for aye the courses of the world.