 | The poems and stories of Fitz-James O'Brien |  |
105
THE SEA.
Ebb and flow! ebb and flow!
By basalt crags, through caverns low,
Through rifted rocks, o'er pebbly strand,
On windy beaches of naked sand!
By basalt crags, through caverns low,
Through rifted rocks, o'er pebbly strand,
On windy beaches of naked sand!
To and fro! to and fro!
Chanting ever and chanting slow,
Thy harp is swept with liquid hands,
And thy voice is breathing of distant lands!
Chanting ever and chanting slow,
Thy harp is swept with liquid hands,
And thy voice is breathing of distant lands!
Sweet and low! sweet and low!
Those golden echoes I surely know.
Thy lips are rich with the lazy south,
And the tuneful icebergs have touched thy mouth.
Those golden echoes I surely know.
Thy lips are rich with the lazy south,
And the tuneful icebergs have touched thy mouth.
Come and go! come and go!
The sun may shine and the winds may blow,
But thou wilt forever sing, O sea!
And I never, ah! never, shall sing like thee!
The sun may shine and the winds may blow,
But thou wilt forever sing, O sea!
And I never, ah! never, shall sing like thee!
December, 1854.
| The poems and stories of Fitz-James O'Brien | |