When I made the cloud the garment thereof, and thick darkness a
swaddlingband for it,
And brake up read more

When I made the cloud the garment thereof, and thick darkness a
swaddlingband for it,
And brake up for it my decreed place, and set bars and doors,
And said, Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further: and here
shall thy proud waves be stayed?

Behold the Sea,
The opaline, the plentiful and strong,
Yet beautiful as is the rose in June,
read more

Behold the Sea,
The opaline, the plentiful and strong,
Yet beautiful as is the rose in June,
Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July;
Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds,
Purger of earth, and medicine of men;
Creating a sweet climate by my breath,
Washing out harms and griefs from memory,
And, in my mathematic ebb and flow,
Giving a hint of that which changes not.

Alone I walked on the ocean strand,
A pearly shell was in my hand;
I stooped, and read more

Alone I walked on the ocean strand,
A pearly shell was in my hand;
I stooped, and wrote upon the sand
My name, the year, the day.
As onward from the sport I passed,
One lingering look behind I cast,
A wave came rolling high and fast,
And washed my lines away.

The great fishpond (the sea).

The great fishpond (the sea).

Deep calleth upon deep at the noise of thy waterspouts: all thy
waves and thy billows are gone over read more

Deep calleth upon deep at the noise of thy waterspouts: all thy
waves and thy billows are gone over me.

Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
read more

Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
That knows his rider.

That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,--
Are but read more

That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,--
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man.

There is many a rich stone laid up in the bowells of the earth,
many a fair pearle in read more

There is many a rich stone laid up in the bowells of the earth,
many a fair pearle in the bosome of the sea, that never was seene
nor never shall bee.

What are the wild waves saying,
Sister, the whole day long,
That ever amid our playing
read more

What are the wild waves saying,
Sister, the whole day long,
That ever amid our playing
I hear but their low, lone song?