 | The American common-place book of poetry |  |
The mysterious Music of Ocean.—Walsh's National Gazette.
“And the people of this place say, that, at certain seasons, beautiful sounds are heard from the ocean.”—
Macor's Voyages.
Lonely and wild it rose,
That strain of solemn music from the sea,
As though the bright air trembled to disclose
An ocean mystery.
That strain of solemn music from the sea,
As though the bright air trembled to disclose
An ocean mystery.
Again a low, sweet tone,
Fainting in murmurs on the listening day,
Just bade the excited thought its presence own,
Then died away.
Fainting in murmurs on the listening day,
Just bade the excited thought its presence own,
Then died away.
Once more the gush of sound,
Struggling and swelling from the heaving plain,
Thrilled a rich peal triumphantly around,
And fled again.
Struggling and swelling from the heaving plain,
Thrilled a rich peal triumphantly around,
And fled again.
O boundless deep! we know
Thou hast strange wonders in thy gloom concealed,
Gems, flashing gems, from whose unearthly glow
Sunlight is sealed.
Thou hast strange wonders in thy gloom concealed,
Gems, flashing gems, from whose unearthly glow
Sunlight is sealed.
And an eternal spring
Showers her rich colors with unsparing hand,
Where coral trees their graceful branches fling
O'er golden sand.
Showers her rich colors with unsparing hand,
Where coral trees their graceful branches fling
O'er golden sand.
But tell, O restless main!
Who are the dwellers in thy world beneath,
That thus the watery realm cannot contain
The joy they breathe?
Who are the dwellers in thy world beneath,
That thus the watery realm cannot contain
The joy they breathe?
83
Emblem of glorious might!
Are thy wild children like thyself arrayed,
Strong in immortal and unchecked delight,
Which cannot fade?
Are thy wild children like thyself arrayed,
Strong in immortal and unchecked delight,
Which cannot fade?
Or to mankind allied,
Toiling with wo, and passion's fiery sting,
Like their own home, where storms or peace preside,
As the winds bring?
Toiling with wo, and passion's fiery sting,
Like their own home, where storms or peace preside,
As the winds bring?
Alas for human thought!
How does it flee existence, worn and old,
To win companionship with beings wrought
Of finer mould!
How does it flee existence, worn and old,
To win companionship with beings wrought
Of finer mould!
'Tis vain the reckless waves
Join with loud revel the dim ages flown,
But keep each secret of their hidden caves
Dark and unknown.
Join with loud revel the dim ages flown,
But keep each secret of their hidden caves
Dark and unknown.
| The American common-place book of poetry | |