28.10.2007, 14:56
THE OCEAN.
THE Ocean at the bidding of the Moon,
For ever changes with his restless tide ;
Hung shoreward now, to be regathered soon
With kingly pauses of reluctant pride,
And semblance of return. Anon from home
He issues forth again, high-ridged and free,
The seething hiss of his tumultuous foam
Like armies whispering where great echoes be !
Oh, leave me here upon this beach to rove,
Mute listener to that sound so grand and lone
A glorious sound, deep-drawn and strongly thrown,
And reaching those on mountain heights above ;
To British ears, as who shall scorn to own,
A tutelar fond voice, a saviour-tone of love.
THE Ocean at the bidding of the Moon,
For ever changes with his restless tide ;
Hung shoreward now, to be regathered soon
With kingly pauses of reluctant pride,
And semblance of return. Anon from home
He issues forth again, high-ridged and free,
The seething hiss of his tumultuous foam
Like armies whispering where great echoes be !
Oh, leave me here upon this beach to rove,
Mute listener to that sound so grand and lone
A glorious sound, deep-drawn and strongly thrown,
And reaching those on mountain heights above ;
To British ears, as who shall scorn to own,
A tutelar fond voice, a saviour-tone of love.