The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land,
Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.

The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land,
Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.

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.

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.

Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow,
Such as Creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow,
Such as Creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

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?

The great fishpond (the sea).

The great fishpond (the sea).

The sea appears all golden
Beneath the sun-lit sky.

The sea appears all golden
Beneath the sun-lit sky.

The sea! the sea! the open sea!
The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
Without a mark, read more

The sea! the sea! the open sea!
The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
Without a mark, without a bound,
It runneth the earth's wide regions round;
It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies;
Or like a cradled creature lies.

And I have loved them, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
read more

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.