Old Ocean

 ("J'étais seul près des flots.") 
 
 {XXXVII., September 5, 1828.} 


 I stood by the waves, while the stars soared in sight, 
 Not a cloud specked the sky, not a sail shimmered bright; 
 Scenes beyond this dim world were revealed to mine eye; 
 And the woods, and the hills, and all nature around, 
 Seem'd to question with moody, mysterious sound, 
 The waves, and the pure stars on high. 
 And the clear constellations, that infinite throng, 
 While thousand rich harmonies swelled in their song, 
 Replying, bowed meekly their diamond-blaze— 
 And the blue waves, which nothing may bind or arrest, 
 Chorus'd forth, as they stooped the white foam of their crest 
 "Creator! we bless thee and praise!" 
 
 R.C. ELLWOOD 


 

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