The heart can think of no devotion
Greater than being shore to the ocean--
Holding the curve of one position,
Counting an endless repetition.
LOUIS, what reck I by thee,
Or Geordie on his ocean?
Dyvor, beggar louns to me,
I reign in Jeanie’s bosom!
Let her crown my love her law,
And in her breast enthrone me,
Kings and nations—swith awa’!
Reif randies, I disown ye!
I met a genius on the train
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
it's not pretty.
it was the first time I'd
Here is laid away
In the swift Partitions
Of the awful Sea --
Babble of the Happy
Cavil of the Bold
Hoary the Fruition
But the Sea is old
Edifice of Ocean
Thy tumultuous Rooms
Suit me at a venture
Better than the Tombs
Walked so nicely
With footsteps so discreet
To see her pass
You'd never guess
She walked upon the street.
Down where the Liffey waters' turgid flood
Churns up to greet the ocean-driven mud,
A bruiser in fix
Murdered her for 6/6.
The drop of water began to weep on being separated
from the ocean. The ocean began to laugh, saying to
it: It is we who are all; in truth, there is no other God
beside us, and if we are separated, it is only by a simple
point almost invisible.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
SILENCE deep rules o'er the waters,
Calmly slumb'ring lies the main,
While the sailor views with trouble
Nought but one vast level plain.
Not a zephyr is in motion!
Silence fearful as the grave!
In the mighty waste of ocean
Sunk to rest is ev'ry wave.
The Drop, that wrestles in the Sea --
Forgets her own locality --
As I -- toward Thee --
She knows herself an incense small --
Yet small -- she sighs -- if All -- is All --
How larger -- be?
The Ocean -- smiles -- at her Conceit --
But she, forgetting Amphitrite --
Pleads -- "Me"?
In the profoundest ocean
There is a rainbow shell,
It is always there, shining most stilly
Under the greatest storm waves
That the old Greek called "ripples of laughter.
As you listen, the rainbow shell
Sings--in the profoundest ocean.
It is always there, singing most silently!
Walter Savage Landor
Well I remember how you smiled
To see me write your name upon
The soft sea-sand .
"O! what a child!
You think you're writing upon stone!"
I have since written what no tide
Shall ever wash away, what men
Unborn shall read o'er ocean wide
And find Ianthe's name again.
The image of the moon at night
All trembling in the ocean lies,
But she, with calm and steadfast light,
Moves proudly through the radiant skies,
How like the tranquil moon thou art--
Thou fairest flower of womankind!
And, look, within my fluttering heart
Thy image trembling is enshrined!
Paul Laurence Dunbar
I have seen peoples come and go
Alike the Ocean'd ebb and flow;
I have seen kingdoms rise and fall
Like springtime shadows on a wall.
I have seen houses rendered great
That grew from life's debased estate,
And all, all, all is change I see,
So, dearest God, take me, take me.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
FLOW on, ye lays so loved, so fair,
On to Oblivion's ocean flow!
May no rapt boy recall you e'er,
No maiden in her beauty's glow!
My love alone was then your theme,
But now she scorns my passion true.
Ye were but written in the stream;
As it flows on, then, flow ye too!
BROTHER, I am fire
Surging under the ocean floor.
I shall never meet you, brother--
Not for years, anyhow;
Maybe thousands of years, brother.
Then I will warm you,
Hold you close, wrap you in circles,
Use you and change you--
Maybe thousands of years, brother.
Where the moon slants and wavers.
All day I loved you in a fever holding on to the tail of the horse.
I overflowed whenever I reached out to touch you.
My hand moved over your body covered
With its dress
Burning rough an animal's hand or foot moving over leaves.
The rainstorm retires clouds open sunlight
sliding over ocean water a thousand miles from land.
I close my eyes
and there it is
a concrete walkway
leading out of a
hugging the sides
of a green green
tree filled mountainside
and to the right
a pipe railing
paited the color
of oxidized metaland even firther
to my right
a small beach
all under a pale blue sky
all there when my eyelids
close and the shutters open
It tossed -- and tossed --
A little Brig I knew -- o'ertook by Blast --
It spun -- and spun --
And groped delirious, for Morn --
It slipped -- and slipped --
As One that drunken -- stept --
Its white foot tripped --
Then dropped from sight --
Ah, Brig -- Good Night
To Crew and You --
The Ocean's Heart too smooth -- too Blue --
To break for You --
This ocean, humiliating in its disguises
Tougher than anything.
No one listens to poetry.
Does not mean to be listened to.
Or crash of water.
Is bread and butter
Pepper and salt.
That young men hope for.
It pounds the shore.
White and aimless signals.
One listens to poetry.
Friedrich von Schiller
Thou hast crossed over torrents, and swung through wide-spreading ocean,--
Over the chain of the Alps dizzily bore thee the bridge,
That thou might'st see me from near, and learn to value my beauty,
Which the voice of renown spreads through the wandering world.
And now before me thou standest,--canst touch my altar so holy,--
But art thou nearer to me, or am I nearer to thee?
Here, in this little Bay,
Full of tumultuous life and great repose,
Where, twice a day,
The purposeless, gay ocean comes and goes,
Under high cliffs, and far from the huge town,
I sit me down.
For want of me the world's course will not fail:
When all its work is done, the lie shall rot;
The truth is great, and shall prevail,
When none cares whether it prevail or not.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Unfathomable Sea! whose waves are years,
Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe
Are brackish with the salt of human tears!
Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow
Claspest the limits of mortality,
And sick of prey, yet howling on for more,
Vomitest thy wrecks on its inhospitable shore;
Treacherous in calm, and terrible in storm,
Who shall put forth on thee,
Thomas Edward Brown
If thou could'st empty all thyself of self,
Like to a shell dishabited,
Then might He find thee on the ocean shelf,
And say, "This is not dead,"
And fill thee with Himself instead.
But thou are all replete with very thou
And hast such shrewd activity,
That when He comes He says, "This is enow
Unto itself - 'twere better let it be,
It is so small and full, there is no room for me.
Louder than gulls the little children scream
Whom fathers haul into the jovial foam;
But others fearlessly rush in, breast high,
Laughing the salty water from their mouthes--
Heroes of the nursery.
The horny boatman, who has seen whales
And flying fishes, who has sailed as far
As Demerara and the Ivory Coast,
Will warn them, when they crowd to hear his tales,
That every ocean smells of tar.
Look here's that uninvited
Alien presence look it's here
A shudder on the ocean of tea in the cup
Rust taking hold
On the edges of our laughter
A snake coiled in the depths of the mirror
Will I be able to hide you
From your face in mine
Look it's the third shadow
On our imagined walk
Between our words
Below the vaults of our palates
Will I be able
On this unrest-field
To raise you a tent of my hands
Edgar Allan Poe
Seraph! thy memory is to me
Like some enchanted far-off isle
In some tumultuous sea -
Some ocean vexed as it may be
With storms; but where, meanwhile,
Serenest skies continually
Just o'er that one bright island smile.
For 'mid the earnest cares and woes
That crowd around my earthly path,
(Sad path, alas, where grows
Not even one lonely rose!)
My soul at least a solace hath
In dreams of thee; and therein knows
An Eden of bland repose.