impulse strong,-- "Helmsman! for the love of heaven, Teach me, too, that wondrous song!""Wouldst thou,"--so the helmsman answered, "Learn the secret of the sea?
Only those who brave its dangers
Comprehend its mystery!"
In each sail that skims the horizon, In each landward-blowing breeze,
I behold that stately galley,
Hear those mournful melodies; Till my soul is full of longing
For the secret of the sea,
And the heart of the great ocean Sends a thrilling pulse through me. TWILIGHT
The twilight is sad and cloudy, The wind blows wild and free, And like the wings of sea-birds Flash the white caps of the sea. But in the fisherman's cottage There shines a ruddier light,
And a little face at the window
Peers out into the night.
Close, close it is pressed to the window, As if those childish eyes
Were looking into the darkness,
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To see some form arise.
And a woman's waving shadow
Is passing to and fro, Now rising to the ceiling,
Now bowing and bending low. What tale do the roaring ocean,
And the night-wind, bleak and wild, As they beat at the crazy casement, Tell to that little child?
And why do the roaring ocean,
And the night-wind, wild and bleak,
As they beat at the heart of the mother, Drive the color from her cheek?
SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT
Southward with fleet of ice Sailed the corsair Death; Wild and fast blew the blast,
And the east-wind was his breath. His lordly ships of ice
Glisten in the sun;
On each side, like pennons wide, Flashing crystal streamlets run. His sails of white sea-mist Dripped with silver rain;
But where he passed there were cast Leaden shadows o'er the main. Eastward from Campobello
Sir Humphrey Gilbert sailed;
Three days or more seaward he bore, Then, alas! the land-wind failed.
Alas! the land-wind failed, And ice-cold grew the night;
And nevermore, on sea or shore, Should Sir Humphrey see the light. He sat upon the deck,
The Book was in his hand
"Do not fear! Heaven is as near," He said, "by water as by land!"
In the first watch of the night,
Without a signal's sound, Out of the sea, mysteriously,
The fleet of Death rose all around.
The moon and the evening star Were hanging in the shrouds; Every mast, as it passed,
Seemed to rake the passing clouds. They grappled with their prize,
At midnight black and cold! As of a rock was the shock; Heavily the ground-swell rolled. Southward through day and dark, They drift in close embrace,
With mist and rain, o'er the open main; Yet there seems no change of place. Southward, forever southward,
They drift through dark and day; And like a dream, in the Gulf-Stream
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Sinking, vanish all away. THE LIGHTHOUSE
The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
And on its outer point, some miles away, The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry, A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day. Even at this distance I can see the tides, Upheaving, break unheard along its base,
A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides
In the white lip and tremor of the face. And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright, Through the deep purple of the twilight air, Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light With strange, unearthly splendor in the glare! Not one alone; from each projecting cape
And perilous reef along the ocean's verge, Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape, Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge. Like the great giant Christopher it stands Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave, Wading far out among the rocks and sands, The night-o'ertaken mariner to save.
And the great ships sail outward and return, Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells, And ever joyful, as they see it burn,
They wave their silent welcomes and farewells. They come forth from the darkness, and their sails Gleam for a moment only in the blaze,
And eager faces, as the light unveils,
Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze. The mariner remembers when a child,
On his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink; And when, returning from adventures wild, He saw it rise again o'er ocean's brink. Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same
Year after year, through all the silent night Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame, Shines on that inextinguishable light!
It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp
The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace; It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp,
And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece. The startled waves leap over it; the storm Smites it with all the scourges of the rain, And steadily against its solid form
Press the great shoulders of the hurricane. The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din Of wings and winds and solitary cries, Blinded and maddened by the light within, Dashes himself against the glare, and dies.
A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock,
Still grasping in his hand the fire of Jove,
It does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock, But hails the mariner with words of love. "Sail on!" it says, "sail on, ye stately ships!
And with your floating bridge the ocean span;
Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse,
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Be yours to bring man nearer unto man!" THE FIRE OF DRIFT-WOOD
DEVEREUX FARM, NEAR MARBLEHEAD We sat within the farm-house old,
Whose windows, looking o'er the bay,
Gave to the sea-breeze, damp and cold, An easy entrance, night and day.
Not far away we saw the port,
