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 I. 
 II. 
  
  
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I.

Bright sunsets come and go
Above my waters' flow:
The gold stars rise and set:
But I am young as yet.
I saw the first star gleam
Above my grey-blue stream:
Before the race of man
I, the great sea, began.
When man's race dies away,
My green waves still will play
Round granite echoing shores
That echo not to oars.

207

God dwells upon his throne,
And I on mine, alone.
Though all things else should die,
We could not,—he and I.
The sun has amorous hours
With golden plains of flowers.
He flashes through the trees:
He gilds the emerald leas.
His are the inland nooks,
The birch-trees, and the brooks:
The orchids, white or pied,
The daisies, golden-eyed.
His are the birds that sing
His praises in the spring:
The larch is his,—the fir,
The rainbow-gossamer.
His is the hazel-copse;
His are the mountain-tops,
And valleys green and sweet
Where flocks in thousands bleat.

208

His heart can find repose
In kissing the red rose.
He fills with love-desire
The newly blossomed briar.
The gemlike humming-bird
Is gladdened at his word.
What birds and flowers love me,
The ever-ravening sea?
Only the sea-weed red
Upon my wild floors spread:
The sea-bird fierce and strong
That loves the billows' song.
Strange, through the murky night,
Glitter my storm-birds white:
My gulls and petrels flit
Above my waste, moonlit.
Moonlit, or lightning-rayed:—
When strong men pale, afraid,
Then all my heart delights,
In the mad winter nights.

209

Sweeter than grass to me
Is tangle of the sea:
The rough brown weed that floats
Among the spars of boats.
Sweeter than fields of corn
The sea-gull's cry forlorn,
As on the wave he rests
Or rises on its crests.
A giant ship is tossed
Upon my waves and lost.
To-night its course is done:
I greet to-morrow's sun.
Or, with a laughing smile,
I greet some coral-isle.
Weary of dripping ghosts,
I kiss its golden coasts.
In depths that were a grave
My crimson sea-fronds wave
Most gently. In a rill
The star-wort is less still!

210

Then, when night sinks again
Upon my boundless plain,
I chase the glimmering ships,
Foam flashing from my lips.
Where all was peace before,
My white-maned lions roar:
The ships' planks part and crack,
And spot their manes with black.