THOU art as a lone watcher on a rock, With Saxon hair back floating in the wind, Gazing where stranger ships, to doom consigned, Upon the sullen ledges grind and knock. Fair were the barks round which the breakers flock, Rich freights had they of treasure for mankind, And gallant were the hearts that left behind The sea's broad buffet for the channel's shock. Slow, slow the ship that brings thy liberties Cuts the white tempest or the bright, blue brine, And wanders oft before the whelming storm, And ever the swift straits and shallows flees. But near, more near, the haven's sheltering line, Up the long sea-curve rides its stately form. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SELF-DEPENDENCE by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE MOWER AGAINST GARDENS by ANDREW MARVELL NORTHERN FARMER, NEW STYLE by ALFRED TENNYSON A JEWISH FAMILY; IN A SMALL VALLEY OPPOSITE ST. GOAR by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ON A PIECE OF UNWROUGHT PIPECLAY by JOHN FREDERICK BRYANT THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: AT HOME AFTER THE BALL by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |