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.

The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast;
And the woods against a stormy read more

The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast;
And the woods against a stormy sky,
Their giant branches toss'd.

The burden of the desert of the sea. As whirlwinds in the south
pass through; so it cometh from read more

The burden of the desert of the sea. As whirlwinds in the south
pass through; so it cometh from the desert, from a terrible land.

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.

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?

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.

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.

Ye waves
That o'er th' interminable ocean wreathe
Your crisped smiles.

Ye waves
That o'er th' interminable ocean wreathe
Your crisped smiles.

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.