Читать книгу The Complete Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell - James Russell Lowell - Страница 17

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My soul was like the sea.

Before the moon was made,

Moaning in vague immensity,

Of its own strength afraid,

Unresful and unstaid.

Through every rift it foamed in vain,

About its earthly prison,

Seeking some unknown thing in pain,

And sinking restless back again,

For yet no moon had risen:

Its only voice a vast dumb moan,

Of utterless anguish speaking,

It lay unhopefully alone,

And lived but in an aimless seeking.

So was my soul; but when 'twas full

Of unrest to o'erloading,

A voice of something beautiful

Whispered a dim foreboding,

And yet so soft, so sweet, so low,

It had not more of joy than woe;

And, as the sea doth oft lie still,

Making its waters meet,

As if by an unconscious will,

For the moon's silver feet,

So lay my soul within mine eyes

When thou, its guardian moon, didst rise.

And now, howe'er its waves above

May toss and seem uneaseful,

One strong, eternal law of Love,

With guidance sure and peaceful,

As calm and natural as breath,

Moves its great deeps through life and death.