You oceans both, I close with you, We murmur alike reproachfully rolling sands and drift, knowing not why, These little shreds indeed standing for you and me and all. You friable shore with trails of debris, You fish-shaped island, I take what is underfoot, What is yours is mine my father. I too Paumanok, I too have bubbled up, floated the measureless float, and been wash'd on your shores, I too am but a trail of drift and debris, I too leave little wrecks upon you, you fish-shaped island. I throw myself upon your breast my father, I cling to you so that you cannot unloose me, I hold you so firm till you answer me something. Kiss me my father, Touch me with your lips as I touch those I love, Breathe to me while I hold you close the secret of the murmuring I envy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN by ROBERT BROWNING ON A VOLUME OF ANONYNOUS POEMS ENTITLED A MASQUE OF POETS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A WINTRY LULLABY by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA MISERABLE NIGHT by AVENELLE WILMETH BLAIR THE SLAVE MARKET by GORDON BOTTOMLEY SEARCHLIGHTS by MILDRED SUTTON BRENEMAN UPON THIS WORK OF HIS BELOVED FRIEND THE AUTHOR by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |