 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
IN PRAISE OF HER.
What thing is there on earth to which I can
My love compare?
So far she is beyond all praise of man,
That speech is bare
To say how fair
She is beyond comparison.
My love compare?
So far she is beyond all praise of man,
That speech is bare
To say how fair
She is beyond comparison.
Her nature seems like some warm summer sea,
That bears alone
The utmost glory, and the majesty
Of all the sun,
Till day be done,
Then takes the stars for company.
That bears alone
The utmost glory, and the majesty
Of all the sun,
Till day be done,
Then takes the stars for company.
As children who for cooling waters crave
On some hot day,
And in the ebb of the retreating wave,
Are glad to play,
And feel the spray
Their gleaming, panting bodies lave, —
On some hot day,
And in the ebb of the retreating wave,
Are glad to play,
And feel the spray
Their gleaming, panting bodies lave, —
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So in the shallows of her nature we
Are glad to move:
I know not if on earth a man there be
Found strong enough
The depths thereof
To reach, in calm security.
Are glad to move:
I know not if on earth a man there be
Found strong enough
The depths thereof
To reach, in calm security.
Yea, all the music of a summer deep
Her tones possess;
Such melody as comes when light winds sleep,
And souls confess
Joy's keen excess
In tears that are most sweet to weep.
Her tones possess;
Such melody as comes when light winds sleep,
And souls confess
Joy's keen excess
In tears that are most sweet to weep.
O deep, kind sea! O passionate, wild sea!
Thy strong tides flow
'Twixt God's vast life and our mortality;
Yet who shall know
Where thy waves go, —
Who say where the far strand may be?
Thy strong tides flow
'Twixt God's vast life and our mortality;
Yet who shall know
Where thy waves go, —
Who say where the far strand may be?
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |