Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE SEA, by BERNARD BARTON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE SEA, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: I remember a time when existence was young
Last Line: May a ray from hope's star shed its light on my grave!
Alternate Author Name(s): Quaker Poet
Subject(s): Sea; Ocean


I REMEMBER a time when existence was young,
When the halo of hope round futurity hung,
When I stoop'd not to commune with sorrow or strife,
But enjoyment alone seem'd the business of life.

The bright sun himself, in an unclouded sky,
Exulted not more in his brightness than I;
And the clouds that his last rays of light lov'd to gild,
Could not rival the castles my fancy would build.

The loud-singing bird, and the blythe humming bee,
Were not happier than I, in that season of glee;
Like the butterfly, flitting round spring's gayest bowers,
Fly whither I would, I alighted on flowers.

Yet then, even then, when my young spirit found
Its own heaven within, and above, and around,
There was nothing more dear or delightful to me,
Than to gaze on the glorious and beautiful sea.

Oh! I shall not forget, until memory depart,
When first I beheld it, the glow of my heart;
The wonder, the awe, the delight that stole o'er me,
When its billowy boundlessness open'd before me!

As I stood on its margin, or roam'd on its strand,
I felt new ideas within me expand,
Of glory and grandeur, unknown till that hour,
And my spirit was mute in the presence of POWER!

But soon, as young boyhood is wont, I o'ercame
The feeling of awe which first master'd my frame,
And that wide world of waters appear'd in my view
A scene of enjoyment unbounded and new.

In the surf-beaten sands that encircl'd it round,
In the billow's retreat, and the breaker's rebound,
In its white-drifted foam, and its dark-heaving green,
Each moment I gaz'd some fresh beauty was seen.

And thus, while I wander'd on ocean's bleak shore,
And survey'd its vast surface, and heard its waves roar,
I seem'd wrapt in a dream of romantic delight,
And haunted by majesty, glory, and might!

So it was in the morning of life! but no more
Can thy grandeur, old Ocean! such visions restore;
With the freshness of youth those enchantments have flown,
But a charm still survives that is proudly thy own.

It is thine to awaken that tenderest thrill
Of pensive enjoyment, which time cannot chill;
Which survives even love, on its memory to live,
And is dearer by far than all rapture can give.

It is not a feeling of gloom or distress,
But something that language can never express;
'Tis the essence of joy, and the lux'ry of wo,
The bliss of the blest, faintly imag'd below.

For if ever to mortals sensations are given
As pledges of purer ones hop'd for in heaven,
They are those which arise, when, with humble devotion,
We gaze upon thee, thou magnificent ocean.

Though, while in these houses of clay we must dwell,
We but faintly can guess, and imperfectly tell
What the feelings of fetterless spirits may be;
They are surely like those which are waken'd by thee.

A sense of HIS greatness, whose might, and whose will
First gave thee existence, and governs thee still;
By the force of whose "FIAT" thy waters were made!
By the strength of whose arm thy proud billows are stay'd!

Nor less, when our vision thy vastness would scan,
And our spirits would fain thy immensity span,
Does thy empire, which spreads from equator to pole,
Prove how feeble and finite is human control.

Yet, mix'd with emotions that humble our pride,
Are others to nature's best feelings allied;
To the wounded in spirit, the stricken in heart,
Thy breezes and billows can solace impart.

And this I have found, when, with spirits deprest,
I have walk'd by thy side as thy waves sank to rest;
When the winds which had swept thee were softly subsiding,
And where breakers had foam'd, rippling billows were gliding.

Oh, thus! have I thought, when the tempests that roll,
And the clouds that o'ershadow and darken my soul,
Have fulfill'd their commission, my sorrows may cease,
And my thoughts, like thy waves, find a season of peace.

Flow on then, thou type of eternity! flow:
In boyhood my heart in thy presence would glow;
"For the strength of the happy, the might of the free,
Seem'd spread like a garment of glory o'er thee."

But more passionless, pensive, and pure is thy sway,
Since dark clouds have shadow'd the noon of my day;
Oh, then! like the sun's setting beam on thy wave,
May a ray from Hope's star shed its light on my grave!





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