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Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man read more
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man marks the earth with ruin--his control
Stops with the shore.
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.
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.
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.
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.
The sea appears all golden
Beneath the sun-lit sky.
The sea appears all golden
Beneath the sun-lit sky.
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
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.
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.