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THE UNKNOWN QUEST
The pines stand up in strong tranquillity,
The smooth air sleeps like water in a well;
But rest comes never to this restless Sea,
Still heaving with the old incessant swell,
Still clamouring with the old incessant cry.
Thou hast no peace, O Sea! No peace have I!
Nought else is uncontent this happy day;
Even the sky, thy lover, full and tense
With palpable glee, forgets, and can be gay;
But thou rememberest! That unquiet sense
No sun, no windless weather may appease,
No calm allay that cry, and let it cease.
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