I
LL in the sea that is wild and deep, But afar in a shadow still,
I can see the trees that gather and sleep In the wood upon the hill.
The deeps are green as an emerald's face, The caves are crystal calm,
But I wish the sea were a little trace Of moisture in God's palm.
The waves are weary of hiding pearls, Are aweary of smothering gold,
They would all be air that sweeps and swirls In the branches manifold.
They are weary of laving the seaman's eyes With their passion prayer unsaid,
They are weary of sobs and the sudden sighs And movements of the dead.
All the sea is haunted with human lips Ashen and sere and gray,
You can hear the sails of the sunken ships Stir and shiver and
In the weary solitude; If mine were the will of God, the
Should melt away in the rustling wood Like a mist that follows the rain.
But I dwell in the sea that is wild and deep And afar in the shadow still,
I can see the trees that gather and sleep In the wood upon the hill.
