Eastward as far as the eye can see, Still eastward, eastward, endlessly, The sparkle and tremor of purple sea That rises before you, a flickering hill, On and on to the shut of the sky, And beyond, you fancy it sloping until The same multitudinous throb and thrill That vibrate under your dizzy eye In ripples of orange and pink are sent Where the poppied sails doze on the yard, And the clumsy junk and proa lie Sunk deep with precious woods and nard, Mid the palmy isles of the Orient. Those leaning towers of clouded white On the farthest brink of doubtful ocean, That shorten and shorten out of sight, Yet seem on the selfsame spot to stay, Receding with a motionless motion, Fading to dubious films of gray, Lost, dimly found, then vanished wholly, Will rise again, the great world under, First films, then towers, then high-heaped clouds, Whose nearing outlines sharpen slowly Into tall ships with cobweb shrouds, That fill long Mongol eyes with wonder, Crushing the violet wave to spray Past some low headland of Cathay; -- What was that sigh which seemed so near, Chilling your fancy to the core? 'T is only the sad old sea you hear, That seems to seek forevermore Something it cannot find, and so, Sighing, seeks on, and tells its woe To the pitiless breakers of Appledore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I DID THIS FOR THEE! WHAT HAST THOU DONE FOR ME? by FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL EPIGRAM: 118. ON GUT by BEN JONSON RESIGNATION by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SIBERIA by JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN TIGER LILIES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH AN IMITATION OF SPENCER by JOHN ARMSTRONG CHORUS FROM A TRAGEDY by LEONARD BACON (1887-1954) |