hymn to the sea.
29
Hark'ning through all the music of her leaves
And inland murmurs, o'er the seaward steep,
The stately Summer leans, while dim winds sweep
Her shining tresses back—and half she grieves
That thou disdain'st with thy hoar wreaths, to twine
Her fleeting gifts.—Yet hast thou tender fancies;
Broodings of love when young winds cease,
And silence deepens into peace;
And leadest with Day and Night immortal dances,
Crowned with fresh marriage-blooms and lotus-cups divine.
And inland murmurs, o'er the seaward steep,
The stately Summer leans, while dim winds sweep
Her shining tresses back—and half she grieves
That thou disdain'st with thy hoar wreaths, to twine
Her fleeting gifts.—Yet hast thou tender fancies;
Broodings of love when young winds cease,
And silence deepens into peace;
And leadest with Day and Night immortal dances,
Crowned with fresh marriage-blooms and lotus-cups divine.
Upon the broad, gray, gleaming beach I saw,
Last night, that phantom-light of thy desire,
Orb large and slow in the East, dropping pale fire
Along thy deep'ning tumult, so to draw
Old love-dreams out:—for countless leagues she had come
O'er kindred foam; her footfalls echoing yet
In the deep breast of Aral—through
Last night, that phantom-light of thy desire,
Orb large and slow in the East, dropping pale fire
Along thy deep'ning tumult, so to draw
Old love-dreams out:—for countless leagues she had come
O'er kindred foam; her footfalls echoing yet
In the deep breast of Aral—through
