Classic Poem

Where the breeze is an emerald green,
The breath of the fathomless deep,
Fresh, pure, living it falls on the scene,
While the little waves tremblingly creep,
So the air of the soul hath this firmness of cheer,
And over it thoughts like wild vessels veer.

'Tis a breeze from the shore that uplifts
The surface, and tosses it far,
But the depths are unmoved, and the drifts
Of white foam like the cloud o'er the star,
Hurry on, madly roam, but the light is unmoved,
Like the heart of the bride for the mate she has loved.

I would sail on the sea in my boat,
I would drift with the rolling tide,
In the calm of green harbors I float,
On the black mountainous chasms I ride,
I am never at anchor, I never shall be,
I am sailing the glass of infinity's sea.

Rage on, strongest winds, for the sail
Has ropes to the fast trimly set,
My heart which is oak cannot fail,
And the billows I cheered that I met,
Cold, — no, good breeze thou art comfort to me,
There are vessels I hail on the generous sea.