Rocks—hoary with age—bearded with barnacles—crouching low— What have you seen in the ebb and the flow Of the tireless sea, aeons ago? Who tossed you high above the reach of the tide, And bade you abide Patiently waiting? Waves saucily tease your ancient toes— And leap upon your conquering shoulders That have breasted the storm's merciless blows— Swift currents swirling, Ceaselessly whirling Against your moveless granite boulders. Rocks—mute and imponderable—on your weed-encrusted side Strange forms of the sea Cling uncertainly. Scuttling crabs in your shelter hide— Even I, upon your great lap Feel your strength wrap Me with comforting warmth—close do you hold me, Hard though your surface, I let you enfold me— Drowsily yielding, I hear the refrain, Clearly and plain Of wind ripples, wave rushes— Sea-splashings—night hushes— The systole and dystole of countless ages. Is it the music of God, turning life's pages? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAY OF THE LOVELORN; PARODY OF TENNYSON'S 'LOCKSLEY HALL' by THEODORE MARTIN ON MILTON'S PARADISE LOST by ANDREW MARVELL THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: JANUARY by EDMUND SPENSER A GENTLE ECHO ON WOMAN (IN THE DORIC MANNER) by JONATHAN SWIFT PERFECT WOMAN by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE TRANCE by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE THE YOUNG FOWLER THAT MISTOOK HIS GAME; AN IDYLLIUM by BION THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: FIRST ECLOGUE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |