Poetry Archives

Oh how I love the laughing sea,
     Sun lances splintering;
Or with a virile harmony
     In salty caves to sing;
Or mumbling pebbles on the shore,
     Or roused to monster might:
By day I love the sea, but more
     I love it in the night.

High over ocean hangs my home
     And when the moon is clear
I stare and stare till fairy foam
     Is music in my ear;
Till glamour dances to a tune
     No mortal man could make;
And there bewitched beneath the moon
     To beauty I awake.

Then though I seek my bed again
     And close the shutters tight,
Still, still I hear that wild refrain
     And see that mystic light . . .
Oh reckon me a crazy loon,
     But blesséd I will be
If my last seeing be the moon,
     My last sound—the Sea.