The Sea Doth Strike Poem by Annie Cordelia Adams

What is the sea, for it never ends
It looms around the horizon’s bend
I follow it as I transcend
The ceaseless waters make great lament

The evening tide is far behind
Toil on to meet the perimeter of mind
The ocean chants its words, maligned
Brink of thoughts conceived finally unwind

Is there substance to this ocean?
The great monster who speaks
He is ominous and bleak
One cannot hide from such emotion

Is there substance to this ocean?
With wings spread from end of earth
To end of time, to end of berth
To end of earth, a bit of notion?

Does it find its home in any circle?
Or in any part of single love
Of single thought, or single drove
Of masses with a single harbor cove?

Does it hear a song sung by many?
Or even of one, just one man
One idea to span, one plan
Or accord of reciprocal clan?

Ice for love and snakes for truth
The sea will strike at one as three
Waves askew, bring the Gaelic banshee
Sea’s Prussian blue is a gloomy decree