I looked across the rollers of the deep, Long land-swells, ropes of weed, and riding foam, With bitter angry heart: did I not roam Ever like these? And what availeth sleep? Or wakefulness? or pain? And still the sea Rustled and sang, "Alike! and one to me!" Ay! once I trod these shores too happily, Murmuring my gladness to the rocks and ground And, while the wave broke loud on ledge and reef, Whispered it in the pause, like one who tells His heart's dream and delight! And still the sea Went back and forth upon its bar of shells, Washed and withdrew, with a soft shaling sound, As though the wet were dry and joy were grief. |