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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540793" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Slow Pacific Swell</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Far out of sight forever stands the sea, <br>Bounding the land with pale tranquillity. <br>When a small child, I watched it from a hill <br>At thirty miles or more. The vision still <br>Lies in the eye, soft blue and far away: <br>The rain has washed the dust from April day; <br>Paint-brush and lupine lie against the ground; <br>The wind above the hill-top has the sound <br>Of distant water in unbroken sky; <br>Dark and precise the little steamers ply- <br>Firm in direction they seem not to stir. <br>That is illusion. The artificer <br>Of quiet, distance holds me in a vise <br>And holds the ocean steady to my eyes. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Once when I rounded Flattery, the sea <br>Hove its loose weight like sand to tangle me <br>Upon the washing deck, to crush the hull; <br>Subsiding, dragged flesh at the bone. The skull <br>Felt the retreating wash of dreaming hair. <br>Half drenched in dissolution, I lay bare. <br>I scarcely pulled myself erect; I came <br>Back slowly, slowly knew myself the same. <br>That was the ocean. From the ship we saw <br>Gray whales for miles: the long sweep of the jaw, <br>The blunt head plunging clean above the wave. <br>And one rose in a tent of sea and gave <br>A darkening shudder; water fell away; <br>The whale stood shining, and then sank in spray. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>A landsman, I. The sea is but a sound. <br>I would be near it on a sandy mound, <br>And hear the steady rushing of the deep <br>While I lay stinging in the sand with sleep. <br>I have lived inland long. The land is numb. <br>It stands beneath the feet, and one may come <br>Walking securely, till the sea extends <br>Its limber margin, and precision ends. <br>By night a chaos of commingling power, <br>The whole Pacific hovers hour by hour. <br>The slow Pacific swell stirs on the sand, <br>Sleeping to sink away, withdrawing land, <br>Heaving and wrinkled in the moon, and blind; <br>Or gathers seaward, ebbing out of mind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Yvor+Winters">Yvor Winters</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=540793" data-title="The Slow Pacific Swell de Yvor Winters" data-description="Far out of sight forever stands the sea, 
Bounding the land with pale tranquillity. 
When a small child, I watched it from a hill 
At thirty miles or more. The vision still 
Lies in the eye, soft blue and far away: 
The rain has washed the dust fr..."></div>
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