 | Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell |  |
SEA-VOICES.
Nature has many voices for the ear,
Of accents diverse, yet melodious all,
Some soft as lute, and some as clarion clear,
Others as thrilling as the trumpet's call.
Of accents diverse, yet melodious all,
Some soft as lute, and some as clarion clear,
Others as thrilling as the trumpet's call.
The winds make music as they wildly sweep
In fitful gusts across the stormy sky,
So doth the thunder when white lightnings leap
In blinding flashes 'thwart the dazzled eye.
In fitful gusts across the stormy sky,
So doth the thunder when white lightnings leap
In blinding flashes 'thwart the dazzled eye.
Waters make cadenced music as they run,
Rush of the river, ripple of the brook,
Brawl of the stream, in shadow or in sun,
The song of tinkling rill in leafy nook.
Rush of the river, ripple of the brook,
Brawl of the stream, in shadow or in sun,
The song of tinkling rill in leafy nook.
223
In truth this happy earth is never mute;
The hum of bees is heard in honeyed flowers,
And mating birds amid the branches flute,
And warble love-songs through th' enchanted hours.
The hum of bees is heard in honeyed flowers,
And mating birds amid the branches flute,
And warble love-songs through th' enchanted hours.
How sweet the bleating of the flocks in June,
The far-off lowing of the pastured herds,
And hum of insects in the sultry noon,
When in the woods no sleeping leaf is stirred!
The far-off lowing of the pastured herds,
And hum of insects in the sultry noon,
When in the woods no sleeping leaf is stirred!
But Nature has no music for my ear,
Whether low murm'ring winds, or rush of streams,
Or song of birds in spring-time of the year,
Or crash of thunder when the lightning gleams.
Whether low murm'ring winds, or rush of streams,
Or song of birds in spring-time of the year,
Or crash of thunder when the lightning gleams.
Sweet as the anthem of the sounding sea,
The plaintive plash of waves against the strand,
Or dash of waters as in sportive glee
They break in silver ripples on the sand.
The plaintive plash of waves against the strand,
Or dash of waters as in sportive glee
They break in silver ripples on the sand.
How grand the diapason of its storms,
When the great deep resounds from shore to shore,
And the white billows raise their threat'ning forms,
And then plunge back with long tumultuous roar!
When the great deep resounds from shore to shore,
And the white billows raise their threat'ning forms,
And then plunge back with long tumultuous roar!
I love the very sea-song in the shell
Which holds a strange sweet music for the ear;
Deep in its chambers ocean murmurs dwell,
And chimes of surging waters, faint but clear.
Which holds a strange sweet music for the ear;
Deep in its chambers ocean murmurs dwell,
And chimes of surging waters, faint but clear.
224
A constant joy thou art, majestic sea,
Girt with thy guardian cliffs or ring'd with sand;
A fresh delight I ever find in thee,
Whether by tempests stirr'd or breezes fann'd.
Girt with thy guardian cliffs or ring'd with sand;
A fresh delight I ever find in thee,
Whether by tempests stirr'd or breezes fann'd.
And when, dear friends, there comes that hour to me
When voices of the earth shall soon be o'er,
Place me, I pray, near the sonorous sea,
Where I can catch the rapture of its roar,
When voices of the earth shall soon be o'er,
Place me, I pray, near the sonorous sea,
Where I can catch the rapture of its roar,
And hear it sweetly blending with the notes
Of harpers harping on the sea of glass,
That as the music downward to me floats,
My soul upon the stream to heaven may pass.
Of harpers harping on the sea of glass,
That as the music downward to me floats,
My soul upon the stream to heaven may pass.
| Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell | |