 | The Poetry of Real Life |  |
84
WRITTEN ON THE SEA-SHORE.
By the roused Ocean I do love to stand,And, to the billows' loud dash, as they break
Beneath, and with their foamy thunders shake
Earth's basis, set my verse, in pauses scann'd
Not by the pedant's finger, but the grand
Self-cadenced measure of the waves, which make
By their own motion melody, and take
Poetic licence beyond Man's command.
And, as the billow, with unconscious might,
Dashes the seaweed in its scornful play,
Would that my weak verse, surging to the height
Of its great purpose, so might sweep away
Earth's bubbles and worn prejudices, light
As weeds, before the great truths it would say!
| The Poetry of Real Life | |