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hymn to the sea.
Do tempests swing thee, or deep, choral nights
Chant unto murmurous slumber, yield me still
The calm of hushed abysses!—human ill
Patience transfigures on her visioned heights.
Thou dost not rive the blood-drenched deck apart,
Nor whelm the slaver's freight of woes, but soft
On patient, swelling breast upborne,
Waftest the dismal burthen on,
As trusting in the love that waits aloft,
And the slow germ of good in man's unquiet heart.
Chant unto murmurous slumber, yield me still
The calm of hushed abysses!—human ill
Patience transfigures on her visioned heights.
Thou dost not rive the blood-drenched deck apart,
Nor whelm the slaver's freight of woes, but soft
On patient, swelling breast upborne,
Waftest the dismal burthen on,
As trusting in the love that waits aloft,
And the slow germ of good in man's unquiet heart.
Ah, meagre happiness, and hopes that reach
To some dull dream, a vapor of the sense,
And on the plain of the old Permanence
Are but as hasty flashes in the beach
Of idle footprints! O make more divine
Glad Sea, our thoughts—nor may we dully grope
'Mid slavish fears, while thou dost girth
The continents and isles with mirth,
And music of unconquerable hope
To some dull dream, a vapor of the sense,
And on the plain of the old Permanence
Are but as hasty flashes in the beach
Of idle footprints! O make more divine
Glad Sea, our thoughts—nor may we dully grope
'Mid slavish fears, while thou dost girth
The continents and isles with mirth,
And music of unconquerable hope
