Bryan Waller Procter Poems

THE SEA! the sea! the open sea!
The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
Without a mark, without a bound,
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TOUCH us gently, Time!
Let us glide adown thy stream
Gently,—as we sometimes glide
Through a quiet dream.
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COURAGE ! Nothing can withstand
Long a wronged, undaunted land
If the hearts within her be
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Is my lover on the sea
Sailing east or sailing west,
Mighty ocean, gentle be,
Rock him into rest.
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THE SEA! the sea! the open sea!
The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
Without a mark, without a bound,
...

A THOUSAND miles from land are we,
Tossing about on the roaring sea;
From billow to bounding billow cast,
...

I wakened on my hot, hard bed;
Upon the pillow lay my head;
Beneath the pillow I could hear
My little watch was ticking clear.
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TELL me, what is a poet’s thought?
Is it on the sudden born?
Is it from the starlight caught?
Is it by the tempest taught,
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When the merry lark doth gild
With his song the summer hours,
And their nests the swallows build
In the roofs and tops of towers,
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I ran out in the morning when the air was clean and new,
And all the grass was glittering, grey with autumn dew,
...