THOU art sounding on, thou mighty sea! Forever and the same; The ancient rocks yet ring to thee -- Those thunders naught can tame. Oh! many a glorious voice is gone From the rich bowers of earth, And hushed is many a lovely one Of mournfulness or mirth. The Dorian flute that sighed of yore Along the wave, is still; The harp of Judah peals no more On Zion's awful hill. The Memnon's lyre hath lost the chord That breathed the mystic tone; And the songs at Rome's high triumph poured, Are with her eagles flown. And mute the Moorish horn that rang O'er stream and mountain free; And the hymn the leagued Crusaders sang Hath died in Galilee. But thou art swelling on, thou deep! Through many an olden clime, Thy billowy anthem, ne'er to sleep Until the close of time. Thou liftest up thy solemn voice To every wind and sky, And all our earth's green shores rejoice In that one harmony. It fills the noontide's calm profound, The sunset's heaven of gold; And the still midnight hears the sound, Even as first it rolled. Let there be silence, deep and strange, Where sceptred cities rose! Thou speakest of One who doth not change -- So may our hearts repose. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IMITATION OF POPE: A COMPLIMENT TO THE LADIES by WILLIAM BLAKE SIMON THE CYRENIAN SPEAKS by COUNTEE CULLEN DITTY IN IMITATION OF THE SPANISH: ENTRE TANTO QUE L'AVRIL by EDWARD HERBERT MEMORY by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE WEATHER-COCK POINTS SOUTH by AMY LOWELL STEVENSON'S BIRTHDAY by KATHERINE WISE MILLER THE RUSTIC LAD'S LAMENT IN THE TOWN by DAVID MACBETH MOIR |