On seeing Miss S. T. E. crossing the Hudson
Tis she, upon the sapphire flood,
Whose charms the world surprise,
Whose praises, chanted in the wood,
Are wafted to the skies,
To view the heaven of her eyes,
Where'er the light barque moves,
The green hair'd sisters, smiling, rise
From out their sea-girt groves.
E'en Neptune quits his glassy caves,
And calls out from afar,
'So Venus look'd, when o'er the waves
'She drove her pearly car.'
He bids the winds to caves retreat,
And there confin'd to roar:
'But here,' said he, 'forbear to breathe,
'Till Susan comes on shore.'
poem by Ann Eliza Bleecker from The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Asia: From Prometheus Unbound
My soul is an enchanted boat,
Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float
Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing;
And thine doth like an angel sit
Beside a helm conducting it,
Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing.
It seems to float ever, for ever,
Upon that many-winding river,
Between mountains, woods, abysses,
A paradise of wildernesses!
Till, like one in slumber bound,
Borne to the ocean, I float down, around,
Into a sea profound, of ever-spreading sound:
Meanwhile thy spirit lifts its pinions
In music's most serene dominions;
Catching the winds that fan that happy heaven.
And we sail on, away, afar,
Without a course, without a star,
But, by the instinct of sweet music driven;
Till through Elysian garden islets
By thee, most beautiful of pilots,
Where never mortal pinnace glided,
The boat of my desire is guided:
Realms where the air we breathe is love,
Which in the winds and on the waves doth move,
Harmonizing this earth with what we feel above.
We have past Age's icy caves,
And Manhood's dark and tossing waves,
And Youth's smooth ocean, smiling to betray:
Beyond the glassy gulfs we flee
Of shadow-peopled Infancy,
Through Death and Birth, to a diviner day;
A paradise of vaulted bowers,
Lit by downward-gazing flowers,
And watery paths that wind between
Wildernesses calm and green,
Peopled by shapes too bright to see,
And rest, having beheld; somewhat like thee;
Which walk upon the sea, and chant melodiously!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Sun and Shadow
As I look from the isle, o'er its billows of green,
To the billows of foam-crested blue,
Yon bark, that afar in the distance is seen,
Half dreaming, my eyes will pursue:
Now dark in the shadow, she scatters the spray
As the chaff in the stroke of the flail;
Now white as the sea-gull, she flies on her way,
The sun gleaming bright on her sail.
Yet her pilot is thinking of dangers to shun,--
Of breakers that whiten and roar;
How little he cares, if in shadow or sun
They see him who gaze from the shore!
He looks to the beacon that looms from the reef,
To the rock that is under his lee,
As he drifts on the blast, like a wind-wafted leaf,
O'er the gulfs of the desolate sea.
Thus drifting afar to the dim-vaulted caves
Where life and its ventures are laid,
The dreamers who gaze while we battle the waves
May see us in sunshine or shade;
Yet true to our course, though the shadows grow dark,
We'll trim our broad sail as before,
And stand by the rudder that governs the bark,
Nor ask how we look from the shore!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Sea Song
I will think no more of the sea! Of the big green waves And the hollowed
shore, Of the brown rock caves No more, no more Of the swell and the weed
And the bubbling foam. Memory dwells in my far away home, She has nothing
to do with me. She is old and bent With a pack On her back. Her tears all
spent, Her voice, just a crack. With an old thorn stick She hobbles along,
And a crazy song Now slow, now quick, Wheeks in her throat. And every day
While there's light on the shore She searches for something; Her withered
claw Tumbles the seaweed; She pokes in each shell Groping and mumbling
Until the night Deepens and darkens, And covers her quite, And bids her be
silent, And bids her be still. The ghostly feet Of the whispery waves
Tiptoe beside her. They follow, follow To the rocky caves In the white
beach hollow... She hugs her hands, She sobs, she shrills, And the echoes
shriek In the rocky hills. She moans: "It is lost! Let it be! Let it be! I
am old. I'm too cold. I am frightened... the sea Is too loud... it is lost,
It is gone..." Memory Wails in my far away home. 1913
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Till The Heart Caves In
Orbison/burnett/neuwirth
Stood together in an open field
And shared the secrets that the night revealed
Then wed chase the light racing through the sky
Can we untangle guilt and innocence?
How hard we torture this ambevolence
Night will bring no dawn wheres the power gone?
For Ill steal your dreams while you are sleeping
And sell them for dust and cheap lust
And Ill turn your hope while you are weeping
And cover your eyes with sad lies and dark skies
Come closer to me, on your hands and knees, alone when your wills gone
How much is not enough? , how much is through?
How long will I be getting over you?
How much grief and sin
Till the heart caves in? till the heart caves in? , till the heart caves in?
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Judgment Of Paris
Where waving Pines the brows of Ida shade,
The swain young Paris half supinely laid,
Saw the loose Flocks thro' shrubs unnumber'd rove
And Piping call'd them to the gladded grove.
'Twas there he met the Message of the skies,
That he the Judge of Beauty deal the prize.
The Message known, one Love with anxious mind,
To make his Mother guard the time assign'd,
Drew forth her proud white Swans, and trac'd the pair
That wheel her Chariot in the purple air:
A golden Bow behind his shoulder bends,
A golden Quiver at his side depends,
Pointing to these he nods, with fearless State,
And bids her safely meet the grand Debate.
Another Love proceeds with anxious care
To make his Iv'ry sleek the shining hair,
Moves the loose Curls and bids the Forehead shew
In full Expansion all its native snow.
A third enclasps the many colour'd Cest
And rul'd by Fancy sets the silver Vest,
When to her Sons with intermingl'd sighs
The Goddess of the rosy lips applies.
'Tis now my darling boys a time to shew
The love you feel, the filial aids you owe:
Yet would we think that any dar'd to strive
For Charms, when Venus and her Loves alive?
Or should the prize of beauty be deni'd,
Has Beauty's Empress ought to boast beside?
And ting'd with Poison, pleasing while it harms,
My Darts I trusted to your infant arms;
If, when your hands have arch'd the golden Bow,
The World's great Ruler bending owns the blow,
Let no contending Form invade my due,
Tall Juno's Mein, nor Pallas Eyes of blew.
But grac'd with Triumph, to the Paphian shore,
Your Venus bears the Palms of Conquest o'er,
And joyful see my hundred Altars there
With costly Gums perfume the wanton air.
While thus the Cupids hear the Cyprian Dame,
The groves resounded where a Goddess came.
The warlike Pallas march'd with mighty stride,
Her Shield forgot, her Helmet laid aside.
Her Hair unbound, in curls and order flow'd,
And Peace, or something like, her Visage shew'd;
So with her eyes serene and hopeful haste,
The long stretch'd Allys of the Wood she trac'd.
But where the Woods a second Entrance found,
With Scepter'd Pomp, and Golden Glory crown'd
The stately Juno stalk'd, to reach the Seat,
And hear the Sentence in the last Debate,
And long, severely long resent the Grove;
In this, what boots it, she's the wife of Jove.
Arm'd with a Grace, at length, secure to win,
The lovely Venus smiling enters in;
All sweet and shining near the Youth she drew,
Her rosy Neck ambrosial odours threw;
The sacred Scents diffus'd among the leaves,
Ran down the Woods and fill'd their hoary Caves;
The Charms, so am'rous all, and each so great,
The conquer'd Judge no longer keeps his Seat;
Oppress'd with Light, he drops his weary'd eyes
And fears he should be thought to doubt the Prize.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Sea Caves
Your garlic and sage roses
Your half moon sea
The waters rise like an oak tree
Boughs of pure crystal joy
Blue gray soul of seraphim eyes
Now the sea showers the shore
I am the hidden man
Golden treasures in caves
I hear the tide go in and out
We search for real dreams
Islands maroon the heart
Protons and neutrons in balance
Man asleep waiting to see her eyes
Woman knowing she is love
These kelp shores wait for you
I long to hold you in the moonlight
Your smile silent as morning
Seagulls soar with freedom
All the walls have crumbled
We share the serene stars of peace
Mystic warm waters surround
Topaz blended with sapphire
Violet touch amidst lime green
Clouds sigh like satin prose
These sea caves fill with your love
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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When the Fishing Boats Go Out
When the lucent skies of morning flush with dawning rose once more,
And waves of golden glory break adown the sunrise shore,
And o'er the arch of heaven pied films of vapor float.
There's joyance and there's freedom when the fishing boats go out.
The wind is blowing freshly up from far, uncharted caves,
And sending sparkling kisses o'er the brows of virgin waves,
While routed dawn-mists shiveroh, far and fast they flee,
Pierced by the shafts of sunrise athwart the merry sea!
Behind us, fair, light-smitten hills in dappled splendor lie,
Before us the wide ocean runs to meet the limpid sky
Our hearts are full of poignant life, and care has fled afar
As sweeps the white-winged fishing fleet across the harbor bar.
[Page 35]
The sea is calling to us in a blithesome voice and free,
There's keenest rapture on its breast and boundless liberty!
Each man is master of his craft, its gleaming sails out-blown,
And far behind him on the shore a home he calls his own.
Salt is the breath of ocean slopes and fresher blows the breeze,
And swifter still each bounding keel cuts through the combing seas,
Athwart our masts the shadows of the dipping sea-gulls float,
And all the water-world's alive when the fishing boats go out.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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The Sea By The Wood
I DWELL in the sea that is wild and deep,
But afar in a shadow still,
I can see the trees that gather and sleep
In the wood upon the hill.
The deeps are green as an emerald's face,
The caves are crystal calm,
But I wish the sea were a little trace
Of moisture in God's palm.
The waves are weary of hiding pearls,
Are aweary of smothering gold,
They would all be air that sweeps and swirls
In the branches manifold.
They are weary of laving the seaman's eyes
With their passion prayer unsaid,
They are weary of sobs and the sudden sighs
And movements of the dead.
All the sea is haunted with human lips
Ashen and sere and gray,
You can hear the sails of the sunken ships
Stir and shiver and sway
In the weary solitude;
If mine were the will of God, the main
Should melt away in the rustling wood
Like a mist that follows the rain.
But I dwell in the sea that is wild and deep
And afar in the shadow still,
I can see the trees that gather and sleep
In the wood upon the hill.
poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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Meditation On A Cold, Dark, And Rainy Night
Sweet on the house top falls the gentle shower,
When jet black darkness crowns the silent hour,
When shrill the owlet pours her hollow tone,
Like some lost child sequester'd and alone,
When Will's bewildering wisp begins to flare,
And Philomela breathes her dulcet air,
'Tis sweet to listen to her nightly tune,
Deprived of star-light or the smiling moon.
When deadly winds sweep round the rural shed,
And tell of strangers lost, without a bed,
Fond sympathy invokes her dol'rous lay,
And pleasure steals in sorrow's gloom away,
Till fost'ring Somnus bids my eyes to close,
And smiling visions open to repose;
Still on my soothing couch I lie at ease,
Still round my chamber flows the whistling breeze,
Still in the chain of sleep I lie confined,
To all the threat'ning ills of life resign'd,
Regardless of the wand'ring elf of night,
While phantoms break on my immortal sight.
The trump of morning bids my slumbers end,
While from a flood of rest I straight ascend,
When on a busy world I cast my eyes,
And think of nightly slumbers with surprise.
poem by George Moses Horton
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Song of the Cattle Hunters
While the morning light beams on the fern-matted streams,
And the water-pools flash in its glow,
Down the ridges we fly, with a loud ringing cry --
Down the ridges and gullies we go!
And the cattle we hunt -- they are racing in front,
With a roar like the thunder of waves,
As the beat and the beat of our swift horses' feet
Start the echoes away from their caves!
As the beat and the beat
Of our swift horses' feet
Start the echoes away from their caves!
Like a wintry shore that the waters ride o'er,
All the lowlands are filling with sound;
For swiftly we gain where the herds on the plain,
Like a tempest, are tearing the ground!
And we'll follow them hard to the rails of the yard,
O'er the gulches and mountain-tops grey,
Where the beat and the beat of our swift horses' feet
Will die with the echoes away!
Where the beat and the beat
Of our swift horses' feet
Will die with the echoes away!
poem by Henry Kendall
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Echoes
Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves in labyrinths of coral caves
The echo of a distant tide
Comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine
And no one showed us to the land
And no one knows the wheres or whys
But something stirs and
Something tries
And starts to climb towards the light
Strangers passing in the street
By chance two separate glances meet
And I am you and what I see is me
And do I take you by the hand
And lead you through the land
And help me understand the best I can
And no one calls us to the land
And no one crosses there alive
And no one speaks
And no one tries
And no one flies around the sun
And now this is the day you fall
Upon my waking eyes
Inviting and inciting me to rise
And through the window in the wall
Comes streamin in on sunlight wings
A million bright ambassadors of morning
And no one sings me lullabies
And no one makes me close my eyes
So I throw the windows wide
And call to you across the sky.
song performed by by Pink Floyd from Meddle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sailboat
Let's take a sailboat.
Put on a warm coat.
And we will
Breathe again.
On the Spanish main.
Notes of fantasy,
Those God spells
Are spun.
And land on the waters
Lit by the sun.
Salty seadogs
Still rent the air.
Hornpipes play.
While galaxies stare
A thousand fold
Up above.
Nothing so bold as love
Could command such grace.
And replicate
That sailboat pace.
Let's take a sailboat
And fish for diamonds
Of the moon.
That dance on the waves
Before drowning
With a swoon.
Rays of light
That calm the night
As we head toward the shore.
The beach will be
Our bed tonight.
Let Neptune's passion roar.
Now,
As summer waves its goodbyes.
Our memories
Wipe their eyes.
With poems that I wrote
For you.
On our sailboat.
Lost in blue.
poem by Kevin East
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Caves Of Dharma
Out from the caves
Kelp shores in the moon
We wait
Crying like falling stars
Hollow caves filled with time
Sisters with courage
Sisters wanting open fields
We are not going back
Bold as golden lions
Recovered from the incest
Severed from the chauvinism
She smiles again like azaleas
Eastern lanterns bring free winds
Out of the grip of gargoyles
Out of cold stone religion
The God of the cross reaches
Personal relationships replace ritual
Her dog runs along the sea
Black silk young with vision
Living by the ancient dreams
The wind blows her wild hair
The doors are the tides
Meadows of jubilant pearls
Nothing harvested by the dark lord
Rows of costumes burned
No victims crying
No molds that crystallize
Wear the shells of sea
Wear the beads of the land
Aqua eyes shine with dawn
Sacred souls gentle as clover
Sun inward and outward
Scallion ships with herbs
Decorate your heart with sky
Let the breeze carry your love
We are out forever from the caves
Her dress of summer roses
Mauve dances like purple life
Fountains of color in fauve night
Existential bliss revels
Justification in eyes of wonder
Grow your seeds like foreign love
Lentils, celery garnish kitchen poetry
Old farm houses with soft light
Paris breathes on the walls
Never let the madness win
Their endless war
Doves fly among the stars
Reflect the apple orchids
Exile is fools gold
Mountain streams are true jewels
She paints for the spring
Join hands children of begonias
Music fills the caves
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Song In March
NOW are the winds about us in their glee,
Tossing the slender tree;
Whirling the sands about his furious car,
March cometh from afar;
Breaks the sealed magic of old Winter’s dreams,
And rends his glassy streams;
Chafing with potent airs, he fiercely takes
Their fetters from the lakes,
And, with a power by queenly Spring supplied,
Wakens the slumbering tide.
With a wild love he seeks young Summer’s charms
And clasps her to his arms;
Lifting his shield between, he drives away
Old Winter from his prey;—
The ancient tyrant whom he boldly braves,
Goes howling to his caves;
And, to his northern realm compelled to fly,
Yields up the victory;
Melted are all his bands, o’erthrown his towers,
And March comes bringing flowers.
poem by William Gilmore Simms
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Morning at Sea in the Tropics
NIGHT waned and wasted, and the fading stars
Died out like lamps that long survived a feast,
And the moon, pale with watching, sank to rest
Behind the cloud-piled ramparts of the main.
Young, blooming Morn, crowned with her bridal wreath,
Bent o’er her mirror clear, the faithful sea;
And gazing on her loveliness therein,
Blushed to the brows, till every imaged charm
Flung roses on the bosom of the wave,
Then, glancing heavenward, both, they blushed again,
As sprang the Sun to claim his radiant bride;
And sea and sky seemed but one rose of morn,
Which thenceforth grew in glory, and the world
Shot back her lesser light upon the day,
While night sped on to seek the sombre shades
That sleep in silent caves beyond the sea.
The day grew calmer, hotter, and our barque
Lay like a sleeping swan upon a lake,
And such soft airs as blew from off the land
Brought with them fragrant odours, and we felt
That orange groves lay blooming ’neath the sun
Which blazed so fiercely overhead at sea.
We heard (with Fancy’s ear) a distant bell;
And thro’ the haze that simmered on the Main
Pictured a purple shore—a convent tow’r
And snowy cots, that from the dark hill-side
Peeped forth ’tween plantain-patches at the sky,
Or smiled through groves of cocos on the sea.
Meanwhile our ship slid on, with breathing sails
Fraught with the melody of murmured song
Such as the zephyr chanted to the morn,
And showers of diamonds flashed before the prow
While sternwards whirled unstrung—pale beads of foam,
Pearls from the loosen’d chaplet of the sea.
’Mid these the flame-bright Nautilus, that seemed
Itself a flow’ret cast upon the stream,
Spread out its crimson sail and drifted on.
Beyond arose a cloud (as ’twere) of birds,
That leapt from out the wave to meet the sun,
Flew a short circuit, till their wings grew dry,
And seaward fell in showers of silver rain.
’Mid these careered the dolphin-squadrons swift,
With mail of changeful hue, and Iris tints;
And floating slowly on, a sea-flow’r passed,
A living creature (none the less a flow’r)
That lives its life in love, and dies for joy,
Unmissed ’mid myriads in the sapphire sea.
poem by George Gordon McCrae
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When The Wind Storms By With A Shout
When the wind storms by with a shout, and the stern sea-caves
Rejoice in the tramp and the roar of onsetting waves,
Then, then, it comes home to the heart that the top of life
Is the passion that burns the blood in the act of strife -
Till you pity the dead down there in their quiet graves.
But to drowse with the fen behind and the fog before,
When the rain-rot spreads and a tame sea mumbles the shore,
Not to adventure, none to fight, no right and no wrong,
Sons of the Sword heart-sick for a stave of your sire's old song -
O, you envy the blessed death that can live no more!
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Afflicted, but not chrushed
When the storms of life are raging,
When the winds so angry roar,
I show no sign of tired or changing
I am the tall, strong lighthouse on the shore.
I do not care how mighty is the storm,
The night will always go away,
Inside my soul is peace, and warm,
Tomorrow is another day.
I am a rock, and I will never give up
on standing there, unmoved by the crashing waves,
I’ll get the beating, hold the pains in my huge cup,
dreaming of all the future coral caves.
"I am afflicted, but not crushed,
perplex, but not driven to despair,
struck down, but not destroyed."
I have my doubts, I have my fear,
but by His Grace, I sing and give another cheer!
poem by Marius Alexandru (3 January 2021)
Submitted by anonym
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The sea by night
The sea at night is not calm,
The scudding foaming waves sound the alarm
The savage winds abrasive, feverishly court the waves
Rejected, they continue upon the surf into the rocky caves
The night-high tide solemn, rakes upon the stony shore;
Along the rugged cliffs and chalky ivory caves
Mourns the hoarse ocean, suffocating seeming to deplore
All that are buried in his restless agitated craves
Into the mined by corrosive tides, of the hollow rock
The waves rushed climbing, rushing to its turf height,
Falling back to relentless shakes with long-resounding shock,
Loud dire thundering on the ear of sullen dreadful night;
Again and again in relentless endless train of unearthly attire
Like long swaying tongues of consuming fire
The waves bounce hitting the fall prone rock
There once upon its peak thrived a nest of a family duck
Above the desolate and stormy deep unrest,
Gleams the wan moon, in gloom by floating mist depprest;
The light towers on vexed shore stand wrapped in blanket of foam
The sea is not quite, the sun is shy reclusive at the bells of dawn
Where is Nature's nurture and calming soft nurse
By wrath or by rage Nature lend us its curse
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Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
As in a sack some thing washed in:
And lay amidst the shells
And pebbles of the shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
One eye was closed the other open
And on her golden hair
Were drops of red:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
How many winters rude have skimmed
Their frozen fingers on the white breast
Of the pale moon-lit lake a-dreaming sound
How many a Spring of green
Has come and gone:
Since that ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
Her clothes that rich were tattered were
Unseemly with the smoke of cigars
And the drunk smell of alcohol
Her look was wild and sad and raw:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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To My Mother
Chiming a dream by the way
With ocean’s rapture and roar,
I met a maiden to-day
Walking alone on the shore:
Walking in maiden wise,
Modest and kind and fair,
The freshness of spring in her eyes
And the fullness of spring in her hair.
Cloud-shadow and scudding sun-burst
Where swift on the floor of the sea,
And a mad wind was romping its worst,
But what was their magic to me?
Or the charm of the midsummer skies?
I only saw she was there,
A dream of the sea in her eyes
And the kiss of the sea in her hair.
I watch her vanish in space;
She came where I walked no more;
But something was passed from her grace
To the spell of the wave and the shore;
And now as the glad stars rise,
She comes to me, rosy and rare,
The delight of the wind in her eyes
And the hand of the wind in her hair.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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