THE SEA.
Emblem of everlasting power, I come
Into thy presence, as an awe-struck child
Before its teacher. Spread thy boundless page,
And I will ponder o'er its characters,
As erst the pleased disciple sought the lore
Of Socrates or Plato. Yon old rock
Hath heard thy voice for ages, and grown grey
Beneath thy smitings, and thy wrathful tide
Even now is thundering 'neath its caverned base.
Methinks it trembleth at the stern rebuke—
Is it not so!
Speak gently, mighty sea!
I would not know the terrors of thine ire
That vex the gasping mariner, and bid
The wrecking argosy to leave no trace
Or bubble where it perished. Man's weak voice,
Though wildly lifted in its proudest strength
With all its compass—all its volumed sound,
Is mockery to thee. Earth speaks of him—
Her levelled mountains—and her cultured vales,
Town, tower and temple, and triumphal arch,
All speak of him, and moulder while they speak.
But of whose architecture and design
Tell thine eternal fountains, when they rise
To combat with the cloud, and when they fall?
Of whose strong culture tell thy sunless plants
And groves and gardens, which no mortal eye
Hath seen and lived?
