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The sea is flowing ever,
The land retains it never.
The sea is flowing ever,
The land retains it never.
If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost
parts of the sea;
Even read more
If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost
parts of the sea;
Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold
me.
What are the wild waves saying,
Sister, the whole day long,
That ever amid our playing
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What are the wild waves saying,
Sister, the whole day long,
That ever amid our playing
I hear but their low, lone song?
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.
There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in,
Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.
There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in,
Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.
And I have loved them, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
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And I have loved them, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne, like shy bubbles, onward; from a boy
I wanton'd with thy breakers.
. . . .
And laid my hand upon thy mane--as I do here.
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.
I never was on the dull, tame shore,
But I loved the great sea more and more.
I never was on the dull, tame shore,
But I loved the great sea more and more.
Behold the Sea,
The opaline, the plentiful and strong,
Yet beautiful as is the rose in June,
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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.