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THE SHORE'S SONG TO THE SEA

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Out on the rocks primeval,

The grey Maine rocks that slant and break to the sea,

With the bay and juniper round them,

And the leagues on leagues before them,

And the terns and gulls wheeling and crying, wheeling and crying over,

I sat heart-still and listened.


And first I could only hear the wind in my ears,

And the foam trying to fill the high rock-shallows.

And then, over the wind, over the whitely blossoming foam,

Low, low, like a lover's song beginning,

I heard the nuptial pleading of the old shore,

A pleading ever occultly growing louder: —


O sea, glad bride of me!

Born of the bright ether and given to wed me,

Given to glance, ever, for me, and gleam and dance in the sun —

Come to my arms, come to my reaching arms,

That seem so still and unavailing to take you, and hold you,

Yet never forget,

Never by day or night,

The hymeneal delights of your embracings.


Come, for the moon, my rival, shall not have you;

No, for tho twice daily afar he beckons and you go,

You, my bride, a little way back to meet him,

As if he once had been your lover, he too, and again enspelled you,

Soon, soon, I know it is only feigning!

For turning, playfully turning, tidally turning,

You rush foamingly, swiftly back to my arms!


And so would I have you rush; so rush now!

Come from the sands where you have stayed too long,

Come from the reefs where you have wandered silent,

For ebbings are good, the restful ebbings of love,

But, oh, the bridal flowings of it are better!

And now I would have you loose again my tresses,

My locks rough and weedy, rough and brown and brinily tangled,

But, oh, again as a bridegroom's, when your tide, whispering in,

Lifts them up, pulsingly up with kisses!


Come with your veil thrown back, breaking to spray!

And oh, with plangent passion!

Come with your naked sweetness, salt and wholesome, to my bosom;

Let not a cave or crevice of me miss you, or cranny,

For, oh, the nuptial joy you float into me,

The cooling ambient clasp of you, I have waited over-long,

And I need to know again its marriage meaning!


For I think it is not alone to bring forth life, that I mate you;

More than life is the beauty of life with love!

Plentiful are the children that you bear to me, the blossoms,

The fruits and all the creatures at your breast dewily fed,

But mating is troubled with a far higher meaning —

A hint of a consummation for all things.

Come utterly then,

Utterly to me come,

And let us surge together, clasped close, in infinite union,

Until we reach a transcendence of all birth, and all dying,

An ecstasy holding the universe blended —

Such ecstasy as is its ultimate Aim!


So sang the shore, the long bay-scented shore,

Broken by many an isle, many an inlet bird-embosomed,

And the sea gave answer, bridally, tidally turning,

And leapt, radiant, into his rocky arms!


Sea Poems

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