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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Rock and The Bubble
Oh! a bare, brown rock
Stood up in the sea,
The waves at its feet
Dancing merrily.
A little bubble
Once came sailing by,
And thus to the rock
Did it gayly cry,--
"Ho! clumsy brown stone,
Quick, make way for me:
I'm the fairest thing
That floats on the sea.
"See my rainbow-robe,
See my crown of light,
My glittering form,
So airy and bright.
"O'er the waters blue,
I'm floating away,
To dance by the shore
With the foam and spray.
"Now, make way, make way;
For the waves are strong,
And their rippling feet
Bear me fast along."
But the great rock stood
Straight up in the sea:
It looked gravely down,
And said pleasantly--
"Little friend, you must
Go some other way;
For I have not stirred
this many a long day.
"Great billows have dashed,
And angry winds blown;
But my sturdy form
Is not overthrown.
"Nothing can stir me
In the air or sea;
Then, how can I move,
Little friend, for thee?"
Then the waves all laughed
In their voices sweet;
And the sea-birds looked,
From their rocky seat,
At the bubble gay,
Who angrily cried,
While its round cheek glowed
With a foolish pride,--
"You SHALL move for me;
And you shall not mock
At the words I say,
You ugly, rough rock.
"Be silent, wild birds!
While stare you so?
Stop laughing, rude waves,
And help me to go!
"For I am the queen
Of the ocean here,
And this cruel stone
Cannot make me fear."
Dashing fiercely up,
With a scornful word,
Foolish Bubble broke;
But Rock never stirred.
Then said the sea-birds,
Sitting in their nests
To the little ones
Leaning on their breasts,--
"Be not like Bubble,
Headstrong, rude, and vain,
Seeking by violence
Your object to gain;
"But be like the rock,
Steadfast, true, and strong,
Yet cheerful and kind,
And firm against wrong.
"Heed, little birdlings,
And wiser you'll be
For the lesson learned
To-day by the sea."
poem by Louisa May Alcott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Copy Rights 2010
All Rights reserved
Now I am a Plant, a Weed...
Now I am a plant, a weed,
Bending and swinging
On a rocky ledge;
And now I am a long brown grass
Fluttering like flame;
I am a reed;
An old shell singing
For ever the same;
A drift of sedge;
A white, white stone;
A bone;
Until I pass
Into sand again,
And spin and blow
To and fro, to and fro,
On the edge of the sea
In the fading light--
For the light fades.
But if you were to come you would not say:
"She is not waiting here for me;
She has forgotten." Have we not in play
Disguised ourselves as weed and stones and grass
While the strange ships did pass
Gently, gravely, leaving a curl of foam
That uncurled softly about our island home,
Bubbles of foam that glittered on the stone
Like rainbows? Look, darling! No, they are gone.
And the white sails have melted into the sailing sky...
poem by Katherine Mansfield
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clouds and Waves
Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me-
"We play from the time we wake till the day ends.
We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon."
I ask, "But how am I to get up to you ?"
They answer, "Come to the edge of the earth, lift up your
hands to the sky, and you will be taken up into the clouds."
"My mother is waiting for me at home, "I say, "How can I leave
her and come?"
Then they smile and float away.
But I know a nicer game than that, mother.
I shall be the cloud and you the moon.
I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will
be the blue sky.
The folk who live in the waves call out to me-
"We sing from morning till night; on and on we travel and know
not where we pass."
I ask, "But how am I to join you?"
They tell me, "Come to the edge of the shore and stand with
your eyes tight shut, and you will be carried out upon the waves."
I say, "My mother always wants me at home in the everything-
how can I leave her and go?"
They smile, dance and pass by.
But I know a better game than that.
I will be the waves and you will be a strange shore.
I shall roll on and on and on, and break upon your lap with
laughter.
And no one in the world will know where we both are.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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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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Sonnet LXVI: The Night-Flood Rakes
The night-flood rakes upon the stony shore;
Along the rugged cliffs and chalky caves
Mourns the hoarse Ocean, seeming to deplore
All that are buried in his restless waves—
Mined by corrosive tides, the hollow rock
Falls prone, and rushing from its turfy height,
Shakes the broad beach with long-resounding shock,
Loud thundering on the ear of sullen Night;
Above the desolate and stormy deep,
Gleams the wan Moon, by floating mist opprest;
Yet here while youth, and health, and labour sleep,
Alone I wander—Calm untroubled rest,
"Nature's soft nurse," deserts the sigh-swoln breast,
And shuns the eyes, that only wake to weep!
poem by Charlotte Smith
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Seaweed Shovelling Song
This is my seaweed shovelling song
Ive been shovelling all day long
Ive got got my seaweed shovel in hand
Because Im a seaweed shovelling man
Green weed, red weed, still alive and dead weed
Lying in a pile on the shore
Brown weed, pink weed, smelly kind of stink weed
Who on earth could ask for more!
This is my seaweed shovelling song
Ive been shovelling all day long
Ive got got my seaweed shovel in hand
Because Im a seaweed shovelling man
Dry weed, wet weed, aint-been-troubled-yet weed
Glinting in the morning sun
Thin weed, thick weed, slimy kind of slick weed
Every bucket weighs a ton!
This is my seaweed shovelling song
Ive been shovelling all day long
Ive got got my seaweed shovel in hand
Because Im a seaweed shovelling
Seaweed shovelling
Seaweed shovelling
Seaweed shovelling man!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ocean
1969 live version
--------------------------------------------
Here comes the ocean
And the waves down by the shore
Here comes the ocean
And the waves down by the sea
Earth is a hollow hair bought of a bigger head
It nearly drives me crazy
I am a lazy son
I never get things down
...(unknown)
But here comes the waves
Down by the shore
Washing the eye of the land
That has been down by the sea
Down by the sea
Down by the sea
Down by the sea
Here comes the ocean and the waves
Down by the shore
Here comes the ocean and the waves
Down by the sea
(incense or in sex or insects) for evil thoughts, thought of by selfish men
It nearly drives me crazy
I am a lazy son
I never get things done
...(unknown)
Here comes the waves down by the shore
Washing the eye of the land that has been down by the sea
Down by the sea
Here come the waves
Here come the waves
Here come the waves
Peel slowly and see version
---------------------------------------------
Here comes the ocean
And the waves
Down by the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves
Where have they been?
Silver and black with night
Heres to a summers night
An empty splendid castle
Glowering alone at night
The princess has had a fright
Madness seeks out the lover
And here come the waves down by the shore
Washing the soul of the body
That comes from the depths of the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves down by the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves, where have they been
Dont swim tonight my love
The tide is out my love
Malcoms curse haunts our family
Oh yes, loud in which, ruler of filthy seas, revelling heavans justice
And here come the waves
And save for a scream
Theres much like a song
To be heard, in the wind, that blows by the sea.
Like the wind
Here come the waves,
Here come the waves,
Here come the waves
song performed by by Velvet Underground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sea
The Sea called--I lay on the rocks and said:
"I am come."
She mocked and showed her teeth,
Stretching out her long green arms.
"Go away!" she thundered.
"Then tell me what I am to do," I begged.
"If I leave you, you will not be silent,
But cry my name in the cities
And wistfully entreat me in the plains and forests;
All else I forsake to come to you--what must I do?"
"Never have I uttered your name," snarled the Sea.
"There is no more of me in your body
Than the little salt tears you are frightened of shedding.
What can you know of my love on your brown rock
pillow....
Come closer."
poem by Katherine Mansfield
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What says the sea, little shell
"What says the sea, little shell?
What says the sea?
Long has our brother been silent to us,
Kept his message for the ships,
Awkward ships, stupid ships."
"The sea bids you mourn, O Pines,
Sing low in the moonlight.
He sends tale of the land of doom,
Of place where endless falls
A rain of women's tears,
And men in grey robes --
Men in grey robes --
Chant the unknown pain."
"What says the sea, little shell?
What says the sea?
Long has our brother been silent to us,
Kept his message for the ships,
Puny ships, silly ships."
"The sea bids you teach, O Pines,
Sing low in the moonlight;
Teach the gold of patience,
Cry gospel of gentle hands,
Cry a brotherhood of hearts.
The sea bids you teach, O Pines."
"And where is the reward, little shell?
What says the sea?
Long has our brother been silent to us,
Kept his message for the ships,
Puny ships, silly ships."
"No word says the sea, O Pines,
No word says the sea.
Long will your brother be silent to you,
Keep his message for the ships,
O puny pines, silly pines."
poem by Stephen Crane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Says the Sea, Little Shell?
"What says the sea, little shell?
What says the sea?
Long has our brother been silent to us,
Kept his message for the ships,
Awkward ships, stupid ships."
"The sea bids you mourn, O Pines,
Sing low in the moonlight.
He sends tale of the land of doom,
Of place where endless falls
A rain of women's tears,
And men in grey robes --
Men in grey robes --
Chant the unknown pain."
"What says the sea, little shell?
What says the sea?
Long has our brother been silent to us,
Kept his message for the ships,
Puny ships, silly ships."
"The sea bids you teach, O Pines,
Sing low in the moonlight;
Teach the gold of patience,
Cry gospel of gentle hands,
Cry a brotherhood of hearts.
The sea bids you teach, O Pines."
"And where is the reward, little shell?
What says the sea?
Long has our brother been silent to us,
Kept his message for the ships,
Puny ships, silly ships."
"No word says the sea, O Pines,
No word says the sea.
Long will your brother be silent to you,
Keep his message for the ships,
O puny pines, silly pines."
poem by Stephen Crane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rocky Top
Wish that I was on ole rocky top,
Down in the tennessee hills.
Aint no smoggy smoke on rocky top,
Aint no telephone bills.
Once there was a girl on rocky top,
Half bear the other half cat.
Wild as a mink, sweet as soda pop,
I still dream about that.
Rocky top, youll always be
Home sweet home to me.
Good ole rocky top,
Rocky top tennessee, rocky top tennessee.
Once two strangers climbed on rocky top,
Lookin for a moonshine still.
Strangers aint come back from rocky top,
Guess they never will.
Corn wont grow at all on rocky top,
Dirts too rocky by far.
Thats why all the folks on rocky top
Get their corn from a jar.
Rocky top, youll always be
Home sweet home to me.
Good ole rocky top,
Rocky top tennessee, rocky top tennessee.
Now Ive had years of cramped up city life,
Trapped like a duck in a pen.
Now all I know is its a pity life
Cant be simple again.
Rocky top, youll always be
Home sweet home to me.
Good ole rocky top,
Rocky top tennessee, rocky top tennessee.
Rocky top tennessee, rocky top tennessee.
Yeah rocky top tennesee eee eee eee.
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Peaceful Shells
Peaceful waves calming breeze brings out the strength in me
I whisper wishes of lost love of hope of a dream
What makes this place so full so un hollow
I wonder when I leave this place could the peace ever follow
A shadow in my wake
A pleasing sound a memory I make
The sea is far behind me as I depart
The tears fall down my face before I even start
I have to leave the sea far behind
The shell in my hand a calling of another time
I had to leave the wonder of the sea
So I brought the shell home with me
A part of the sea taken away
Like me doomed another day
away
poem by Lauren Blood
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Security
There once was a limpet puffed with pride
Who said to the ribald sea:
"It isn't I who cling to the rock,
It's the rock that clings to me;
It's the silly old rock who hugs me tight,
Because he loves me so;
And though I struggle with all my might,
He will not let me go."
Then said the sea, who hates the rock
That defies him night and day:
"You want to be free - well, leave it to me,
I'll help you get away.
I know such a beautiful silver beach,
Where blissfully you may bide;
Shove off to-night when the moon is bright,
And I'll swig you thee on my tide."
"I'd like to go," said the limpet low,
"But what's a silver beach?"
"It's sand," said the sea, "bright baby rock,
And you shall be lord of each."
"Righto!" said the limpet; "Life allures,
And a rover I would be."
So greatly bold she slacked her hold
And launched on the laughing sea.
But when she got to the gelid deep
Where the waters swish and swing,
She began to know with a sense of woe
That a limpet's lot is to cling.
but she couldn't cling to a jelly fish,
Or clutch at a wastrel weed,
So she raised a cry as the waves went by,
but the waves refused to heed.
Then when she came to the glaucous deep
Where the congers coil and leer,
The flesh in her shell began to creep,
And she shrank in utter fear.
It was good to reach that silver beach,
That gleamed in the morning light,
Where a shining band of the silver sand
Looked up with with a welcome bright.
Looked up with a smile that was full of guile,
Called up through the crystal blue:
"Each one of us is a baby rock,
And we want to cling to you."
Then the heart of the limpet leaped with joy,
For she hated the waters wide;
So down she sank to the sandy bank
That clung to her under-side.
That clung so close she couldn't breath,
So fierce she fought to be free;
But the silver sand couldn't understand,
While above her laughed the sea.
Then to each wave that wimpled past
She cried in her woe and pain:
"Oh take me back, let me rivet fast
To my steadfast rock again."
She cried till she roused a taxi-crab
Who gladly gave her a ride;
But I grieve to say in his crabby way
He insisted she sit inside. . . .
So if of the limpet breed ye be,
Beware life's brutal shock;
Don't take the chance of the changing sea,
But - cling like hell to your rock.
poem by Robert William Service
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Sea Shell
Sea Shell, Sea Shell,
Sing me a song, O Please!
A song of ships, and sailor men,
And parrots, and tropical trees,
Of islands lost in the Spanish Main
Which no man ever may find again,
Of fishes and corals under the waves,
And seahorses stabled in great green caves.
Sea Shell, Sea Shell,
Sing of the things you know so well.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Oscar Hummel
I staggered on through darkness,
There was a hazy sky, a few stars
Which I followed as best I could.
It was nine o'clock, I was trying to get home.
But somehow I was lost,
Though really keeping the road.
Then I reeled through a gate and into a yard,
And called at the top of my voice:
"Oh, Fiddler! Oh, Mr. Jones!"
(I thought it was his house and he would show me the way home.)
But who should step out but A. D. Blood,
In his night shirt, waving a stick of wood,
And roaring about the cursed saloons,
And the criminals they made?
"You drunken Oscar Hummel", he said,
As I stood there weaving to and fro,
Taking the blows from the stick in his hand
Till I dropped down dead at his feet.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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The Queen of Bubbles
[Written for a picture]
The Youth speaks: —:
"Why do you seek the sun
In your bubble-crown ascending?
Your chariot will melt to mist.
Your crown will have an ending."
The Goddess replies: — :
"Nay, sun is but a bubble,
Earth is a whiff of foam —
To my caves on the coast of Thule
Each night I call them home.
Thence Faiths blow forth to angels
And loves blow forth to men —
They break and turn to nothing
And I make them whole again.
On the crested waves of chaos
I ride them back reborn:
New stars I bring at evening
For those that burst at morn:
My soul is the wind of Thule
And evening is the sign —
The sun is but a bubble,
A fragile child of mine."
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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The Gift Of The Sea
The dead child lay in the shroud,
And the widow watched beside;
And her mother slept, and the Channel swept
The gale in the teeth of the tide.
But the mother laughed at all.
"I have lost my man in the sea,
And the child is dead. Be still," she said,
"What more can ye do to me?"
The widow watched the dead,
And the candle guttered low,
And she tried to sing the Passing Song
That bids the poor soul go.
And "Mary take you now," she sang,
"That lay against my heart."
And "Mary smooth your crib to-night,"
But she could not say "Depart."
Then came a cry from the sea,
But the sea-rime blinded the glass,
And "Heard ye nothing, mother?" she said,
"'Tis the child that waits to pass."
And the nodding mother sighed.
"'Tis a lambing ewe in the whin,
For why should the christened soul cry out
That never knew of sin?"
"O feet I have held in my hand,
O hands at my heart to catch,
How should they know the road to go,
And how should they lift the latch?"
They laid a sheet to the door,
With the little quilt atop,
That it might not hurt from the cold or the dirt,
But the crying would not stop.
The widow lifted the latch
And strained her eyes to see,
And opened the door on the bitter shore
To let the soul go free.
There was neither glimmer nor ghost,
There was neither spirit nor spark,
And "Heard ye nothing, mother?" she said,
"'Tis crying for me in the dark."
And the nodding mother sighed:
"'Tis sorrow makes ye dull;
Have ye yet to learn the cry of the tern,
Or the wail of the wind-blown gull?"
"The terns are blown inland,
The gray gull follows the plough.
'Twas never a bird, the voice I heard,
O mother, I hear it now!"
"Lie still, dear lamb, lie still;
The child is passed from harm,
'Tis the ache in your breast that broke your rest,
And the feel of an empty arm."
She put her mother aside,
"In Mary's name let be!
For the peace of my soul I must go," she said,
And she went to the calling sea.
In the heel of the wind-bit pier,
Where the twisted weed was piled,
She came to the life she had missed by an hour,
For she came to a little child.
She laid it into her breast,
And back to her mother she came,
But it would not feed and it would not heed,
Though she gave it her own child's name.
And the dead child dripped on her breast,
And her own in the shroud lay stark;
And "God forgive us, mother," she said,
"We let it die in the dark!"
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Fir-Tree and the Brook
The Fir-Tree looked on stars, but loved the Brook!
"O silver-voiced! if thou wouldst wait,
My love can bravely woo." All smiles forsook
The brook's white face. "Too late!
Too late! I go to wed the sea.
I know not if my love would curse or bless thee.
I may not, dare not, tarry to caress thee,
Oh, do not follow me!
The Fir-Tree moaned and moaned till spring;
Then laughed in manic joy to feel
Early one day, the woodsmen of the King
Sign him with a sign of burning steel,
The first to fall. "Now flee
Thy swiftest, Brook! Thy love may curse or bless me,
I care not, if but once thou dost caress me,
O Brook, I follow thee!
All torn and bruised with mark of adze and chain,
Hurled down the dizzy slide of sand,
Tossed by great waves in ecstsy of pain,
And rudely thrown at last to land,
The Fir-Tree heard: "Oh, see
With what fierce love it is I must caress thee!
I warned thee I might curse, and never bless thee,
Why didst thou follow me?
All stately set with spar and brace and rope,
The Fir-Tree stood and sailed and sailed.
In wildest storm when all the ship lost hope,
The Fir-Tree never shook nor quailed,
Nor ceased from saying, "Free
Art thou, O Brook! But once thou hast caressed me;
For life, for death, thy love has cursed or blessed me;
Behold, I follow thee!"
Lost in a night, and no man left to tell,
Crushed in the giant iceberg's play,
The ship went down without a song, a knell.
Still drifts the Fir-Tree night and day,
Still moans along the sea
A voice: "O Fir-Tree! thus must I possess thee;
Eternally, brave love, will I caress thee,
Dead for the love of me!"
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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