Chapter 41
To the Sea by Radcliffe Hall. What can I sing to thee, O thrice-beloved sea? What words can paint thy grace, the beauty of thy face, enwrapped with ecstasy? Filling up thy foamy arms, laden with cooling bombs, and touch me where I stand, here on the yearning land, with soft embrace that calms.
I gaze into thine eyes, where mystic shadow lies, and love-lights glow and gleam within their emerald beam, and passion lives and dies. Until my heart grows still beneath thy magic will, and I can hear and see naught but thy song and thee, that seems the world to fill. Upon thy swelling breast, restless and yet at rest, my spirit floats and sings, while
summer laughs and springs from off thy snow-white crest. Behold my hot desire for thee to quench the fire, with dewy kiss that slips from thy divine wet lips, making my joy entire. Lift up thine endless song and echo it along until all space rejoice in thine enchanted voice that sounds so sweet and strong.
Until the rocks and beach break forth in answering speech, and every listening shall some praise of thee can tell, some joy of thee can teach. O sea that knows no death, O life-inspiring breath, the heart of me would praise the glory of thy days, thine evenings fathomless. The soul in me would sing to that eternal spring beneath thy heaving breast, where lurk
the depths of rest, the end of everything.
