Sea Poems Part 6

And zephyrs matter, that never lift up a sail, Save that of the thistle voyaging over the meadow._

_And the lark--oh--the sunny lark--as well as the songless petrel, Who cries the foamy length of a thousand leagues.

And silence matters, silence free of all surging, Silence, the spirit of happiness and home._

_And oh how much the laugh of a child matters: More than the green of an island suddenly lit by sun at dawn.

And friends, the greetings of friends, how they matter: More than s.h.i.+ps that meet and fling a wild ahoy and pa.s.s, On any alien tides however enchanted.

And the face of love, the evening face of love, at a window waiting, Shall ever a kindled Light on any long-unlifting sh.o.r.e, Shall ever a Harbor Light like that light matter?_

_Ah no! so enough of the sea and the soul for a season.

Too long followed they leave life as a dream, Reality as a mirage when port is made.

"Ever in sight of the human," is the helm-word of the wisest, For earth is not earth to one upon the flood of infinity; To the eye, then, it is but an atom-star, adrift, and oh, No longer warm with the beating of countless hearts._

_No longer warm with the human throb--the simple breath of today, With yester-hours or the near dreams of to-morrow.

No longer rich with the little innumerous blooms of brief delights, Nor all divinely drenched with sympathy.

No longer green with the humble gra.s.s of duties that must grow, To clothe it against desert aridity.

No longer zoned with the air of hope, no longer large with faith-- No longer heaven enough--if Heaven fails us!_

HAUNTED SEAS

A gleaming gla.s.sy ocean, Under a sky of gray; A tide that dreams of motion, Or moves, as the dead may; A bird that dips and wavers Over lone waters round, Then with a cry that quavers Is gone--a spectral sound.

The brown sad sea-weed drifting Far from the land, and lost.

The faint warm fog unlifting, The derelict long-tossed, But now at rest--tho haunted By the death-scenting shark, Whose prey no more undaunted Slips from it, spent and stark.

SEA LURE

(_The Maine Coast_)

It is so, O sea! wild roses Bloom here in the scent of your brine.

And the juniper round them closes, And the bays amid them twine, To guard and to praise their beauty; And the gulls above them cry, And the stern rocks stand on duty, Where the surf beats white and high.

It is so, O sea! wild roses, With the day-long fog bedrenched, Have come from their inland closes With a thirst for you unquenched.

And over your cliffs they clamber, And over your vast they gaze; For the tides of you can enamour Even them with their woodland ways.

Yea, the pa.s.sion of you and the power And the largeness are a lure To even the heart of a flower, O sea, with a heart unsure!

For love is a thing unsated, Nor ever in any breast Has it dwelt, all want abated, At rest.

SONGS TO A. H. R.

I

MINGLINGS

It is the old old vision, The moonlit sea--and you.

I cannot make disseverance Between the two.

For all the world's wide beauty To me you seem, All that I love in shadow Or glow or gleam.

It is the old old murmur, The sea's sound and your voice.

G.o.d in his Bliss between them Could make no choice.

For all the world's deep music In you I hear: Nor shall I ask death, ever, For aught more dear.

II

LOVE AND INFINITY

Across the kindling twilight moon A late gull wings to rest.

The sea is murmuring underneath Its vast eternal quest.

The coast-light flashes over the tide A red and warning eye, And oh the world is very wide, But you are nigh!

The stars come out from zone to zone, The wind knows every one And blows their message to my heart, As it has ever done.

"They are all G.o.d's," it tells me, "all, However huge or high."

But ah I could not trust its call-- Were you not by!

III

RECOMPENSE

Not if I chose from a world of days Could I find a day like this.

The sky is a wreath of azure haze And the sea an azure bliss.

The surf runs racing the young salt wind, Shouting without a fear Over reef, bar, cliff and scaur, Where you and I lie near.

O you and I who have watched the sky And sea from many a sh.o.r.e!

You, love, and I who will live and die-- And watch the sea no more!

O joy of the world! Joy of love, Joy that can say to death, "Tho you end all with your wanton pall, We two have had this breath!"

IV

AT THE EBB-HOUR

As I hear, thro the midnight sighing, The low ebb-tide withdrawn, And gulls on the dark cliff crying For far discernless dawn, It seems that all life is lying Within your every breath, Yet I can not believe in dying, Or death.

As I hear, from the gray church tower, The bell's unfailing sound Peal forth hour after hour To night's lone reaches round, It seems as if Time's wan power Would sear all things apace-- All, save in my heart one flower, Your face.