THE sea tells something, but it tells not all That rests within its bosom broad and deep; The psalming winds that o'er the ocean sweep From compass point to compass point may call, Nor half their music unto earth let fall; In far, ethereal spheres night knows to keep Fair stars whose rays to mortals never creep, And day uncounted secrets holds in thrall. He that is strong is stronger if he wear Something of self beyond all human clasp, -- An inner self, behind unlifted folds Of life, which men can touch not nor lay bare: Thus great in what he gives the world to grasp, Is greater still in that which he withholds. |