A THOUSAND miles beyond this sun-steeped wall Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand, The ebbing tide forsakes the listless land With the old murmur, long and musical; The windy waves mount up and curve and fall, And round the rocks the foam blows up like snow,-- Tho' I am inland far, I hear and know, For I was born the sea's eternal thrall. I would that I were there and over me The cold insistence of the tide would roll, Quenching this burning thing men call the soul,-- Then with the ebbing I should drift and be Less than the smallest shell along the shoal, Less than the sea-gulls calling to the sea. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WESTERN CIVILIZATION by JAMES GALVIN MOTHERHOOD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON RETROSPECTION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPECIAL PLEADING by SIDNEY LANIER SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: GODWIN JAMES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |