Poetry Explorer


Classic and Contemporary Poetry


SONG OF THE WAVE by ROBERT FROST

Poem Explanation Poet Analysis

First Line: ROLLING, ROLLING, O'ER THE DEEP
Last Line: THEN THE WAVE'S SHORT LIFE IS O'ER.
Subject(s): WAVES;


"Rolling, rolling, o'er the deep,
"Rolling, rolling, o'er the deep,
As I shoreward slowly sweep.
Sunken treasures neath me sleep
Onward peacefully I roll,
As I shoreward slowly sweep.
Ever thoughtless of the goal,

Sea-bells round me chime and toll.
Onward peacefully I roll,
There is peave above, below,
Ever thoughtless of the goal,
Far beneath me sea-weeds grow,
Sea-bells round me chime and toll.
Tiny fish glide to and fro,

Now in sunlight, now in shade,
There is peace above, below,
Lost within some ocean glade
Far beneath me sea-weeds grow,
By the restless waters made.
Tiny fish glide to and fro,
Pushing onward as before,

Now descry the distant shore,
Now in sunlight, now in shade,
Hear the breakers sullen roar;
Lost within some ocean glade
Quicken then my rolling pace,
By the restless waters made.
With glad heart I join the race

O'er the white-capp'd glittering space,
Pushing onward as before,
Thinking naught of woe or grief,
Now descry the distant shore,
Dancing, prancing, like a leaf,
Hear the breakers sullen roar;
Caring not for cliff or reef.

Lo! black cliffs above me loom,
Quicken then my rolling pace,
Casting o'er me awful gloom,
With glad heart I join the race
And foretell me coming doom.
O'er the white-capp'd glittering space,
O! that I might reach the land,

Reach and lave the sunny sand,
Thinking naught of woe or grief,
But these rocks on every hand--
Dancing, prancing, like a leaf,
Seem my joyous course to stay,
Caring not for cliff or reef.
Rise and bar my happy way,

Shutting out the sun's bright ray.
Lo! black cliffs above me loom,
I must now my proud crest lower
Casting o'er me awful gloom,
and the wild sea roam no more."
And fortell my coming doom.
Hark! the crash and mighty roar,

Then the wave's sport life is o'e
O! that I might reach the land,

Reach and lave the sunny sand,

But these rocks on every hand --

Seem my joyous course to stay,
Rise and bar my happy way,
Shutting out the sun's bright ray.

I must now my proud crest lower
And the wild sea roam no more."
Hark! the crash and mighty roar,
Then the wave's short life is o'er.



Home: PoetryExplorer.net