Classic Poem

( The Sea )

Lift thy white hands with welcome,
And clap them on the shore,
O thou, the never weary,
The young forevermore!

No lover loves his mistress
As I do love the sea,
Or hastes with such swift passion
As I do haste to thee.

Through all the year's long labor
I hear thee calling still:
As thou the moon obeyest,
I bow me to thy will.

My heart bends toward thee ever,
Acknowledging thy sway,
And echoes all thy moaning
To be so far away.

Men call thee false and fickle,
The all-devouring sea;
And shudder at thy caverns
With their dread mystery.

But thou to me art ever
The faithful and the fond,
Disclosing half thy beauty,
But hinting more beyond.

Thine infinite suggestion
Still lures me to thy side;
Thy quiet murmur soothes me;
I like thy stormy pride.

I like thee with thy frowning,
When on the shingly keys
Thy mighty hands are beating
The tempest's harmonies.

I like thee in thy slumber,
When heaves thy curving breast,
While thou dost breathe as gently
As babe when rocked to rest.

I choose thee for my mistress,
And yield thee all thy will;
Be gentle or be wrathful,
But I will love thee still.

Oh, when I am aweary
Of all my little strife,
Thou tellest me a story
Of tireless, endless life.

Far back in primal aeons
Thou laughedst as to-day;
And all the slow-paced ages
Smiled at thy youthful play.

Forever young thou seemest,
Thine eye undimmed by tears,
Thy green locks free and flowing
As in the earliest years.

I stretch my hands out to thee,
I lie upon thy breast,
And with thy tireless motion
Thou rockest me to rest.

My little life so weary
Thy croon and thy caress
Soothe with the eternal whisper
That knows no weariness.

To me, my brain exhausted,
My energy grown dull,
Thy tide proclaims this gospel, —
God's cup is always full.