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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=383766" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Sea-Child</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">HE crawls to the cliff and plays on a brink <br>Where every eye but his own would shrink; <br>No music he hears but the billow’s noise, <br>And shells and weeds are his only toys. <br>No lullaby can the mother find<br>To sing him to rest like the moaning wind; <br>And the louder it wails and the fiercer it sweeps, <br>The deeper he breathes and the sounder he sleeps. <br> <br>And now his wandering feet can reach <br>The rugged tracks of the desolate beach;<br>Creeping about like a Triton imp, <br>To find the haunts of the crab and shrimp. <br>He clings, with none to guide or help, <br>To the furthest ridge of slippery kelp; <br>And his bold heart glows while he stands and mocks<br>The seamew’s cry on the jutting rocks. <br> <br>Few years have wan’d—and now he stands <br>Bareheaded on the shelving sands. <br>A boat is moor’d, but his young hands cope <br>Right well with the twisted cable rope;<br>He frees the craft, she kisses the tide; <br>The boy has climb’d her beaten side: <br>She drifts—she floats—he shouts with glee; <br>His soul hath claim’d its right on the sea. <br> <br>’T is vain to tell him the howling breath<br>Rides over the waters with wreck and death: <br>He ’ll say there ’s more of fear and pain <br>On the plague-ridden earth than the storm-lash’d main. <br>’T would be as wise to spend thy power <br>In trying to lure the bee from the flower,<br>The lark from the sky, or the worm from the grave, <br>As in weaning the Sea-Child from the wave.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Eliza+Cook">Eliza Cook</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=383766" data-title="The Sea-Child de Eliza Cook" data-description="HE crawls to the cliff and plays on a brink 
Where every eye but his own would shrink; 
No music he hears but the billow’s noise, 
And shells and weeds are his only toys. 
No lullaby can the mother find
To sing him to rest like the moaning wind;..."></div>
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