Poems About Ocean

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,But sad mortality o'ersways their power,How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,Whose action is no stronger than a flower?

O how shall summer's honey breath hold out,Against the wreckful siege of battering days,When rocks impregnable are not so stout,Nor gates of steel so strong but time decays?

O fearful meditation, where, alack!Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back,Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?

O! none, unless this miracle have might,That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

A life on the ocean wave,A home on the rolling deep,Where the scattered waters rave,And the winds their revels keep!Like an eagle caged, I pineOn this dull, unchanging shore:Oh! give me the flashing brine,The spray and the tempest's roar!

Once more on the deck I standOf my own swift-gliding craft:Set sail! farewell to the land!The gale follows fair abaft.We shoot through the sparkling foamLike an ocean-bird set free;--Like the ocean-bird, our homeWe'll find far out on the sea.

The land is no longer in view,The clouds have begun to frown;But with a stout vessel and crew,We'll say, Let the storm come down!And the song of our hearts shall be,While the winds and the waters rave,A home on the rolling sea!A life on the ocean wave!

Full fathom five thy father lies: Of his bones are coral made;Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade,But doth suffer a sea-changeInto something rich and strange;Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:Hark! now I hear them,-- Ding, dong, Bell.

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free;The holy time is quiet as a nunBreathless with adoration; the broad sunIs sinking down in its tranquillity;

The gentleness of heaven is on the Sea:Listen! the mighty being is awake,And doth with his eternal motion makeA sound like thunder--everlastingly.

Dear child! dear girl! that walkest with me here,If thou appear untouch'd by solemn thoughtThy nature is not therefore less divine:

Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year;And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine,God being with thee when we know it not.

‘O Mary, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, Across the sands of Dee.’The western wind was wild and dark with foam, And all alone went she.

The western tide crept up along the sand, And o’er and o’er the sand, And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see.The rolling mist came down and hid the land: And never home came she.

‘O is it weed, or fish, or floating hair-- A tress of golden hair, A drownèd maiden’s hair, Above the nets at sea?’Was never salmon yet that shone so fair Among the stakes of Dee.

They row’d her in across the rolling foam, The cruel crawling foam, The cruel hungry foam, To her grave beside the sea.But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home, Across the sands of Dee.

If to be absent were to be Away from thee; Or that when I am gone You or I were alone; Then, my Lucasta, might I cravePity from blustering wind or swallowing wave.

But I’ll not sigh one blast or gale To swell my sail, Or pay a tear to ’suage The foaming blue god’s rage; For whether he will let me passOr no, I’m still as happy as I was.

Though seas and land betwixt us both, Our faith and troth, Like separated souls, All time and space controls: Above the highest sphere we meetUnseen, unknown; and greet as Angels greet.

So then we do anticipate Our after-fate, And are alive i’ the skies, If thus our lips and eyes Can speak like spirits unconfinedIn Heaven, their earthy bodies left behind.

A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fastAnd fills the white and rustling sail And bends the gallant mast;And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While like the eagle freeAway the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee.

O for a soft and gentle wind! I heard a fair one cry;But give to me the snoring breeze And white waves heaving high;And white waves heaving high, my lads, The good ship tight and free--The world of waters is our home, And merry men are we.

There's tempest in yon horned moon, And lightning in yon cloud;But hark the music, mariners! The wind is piping loud;The wind is piping loud, my boys, The lightning flashes free--While the hollow oak our palace is, Our heritage the sea.

Three fishers went sailing out into the west,-- Out into the west as the sun went down;Each thought of the woman who loved him the best, And the children stood watching them out of the town;For men must work, and women must weep;And there's little to earn, and many to keep, Though the harbor bar be moaning.

Three wives sat up in the light-house tower, And trimmed the lamps as the sun went down;And they looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower, And the rack it came rolling up, ragged and brown;But men must work, and women must weep,Though storms be sudden, and waters deep, And the harbor bar be moaning.

Three corpses lay out on the shining sands In the morning gleam as the tide went down,And the women are watching and wringing their hands. For those who will never come back to the town;For men must work, and women must weep,--And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep,-- And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.

Rocked in the cradle of the deepI lay me down in peace to sleep;Secure I rest upon the wave,For thou, O Lord! hast power to save.I know thou wilt not slight my call,For thou dost mark the sparrow's fall;And calm and peaceful shall I sleep,Rocked in the cradle of the deep.

When in the dead of night I lieAnd gaze upon the trackless sky,The star-bespangled heavenly scroll,The boundless waters as they roll,--I feel thy wondrous power to saveFrom perils of the stormy wave:Rocked in the cradle of the deep,I calmly rest and soundly sleep.

And such the trust that still were mine,Though stormy winds swept o'er the brine,Or though the tempest's fiery breathRoused me from sleep to wreck and death.In ocean cave, still safe with TheeThe germ of immortality!And calm and peaceful shall I sleep,Rocked in the cradle of the deep.

Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding, Leaning across the bosom of the urgent West,That fearest nor sea rising, nor sky clouding, Whither away, fair rover, and what thy quest? Ah! soon, when Winter has all our vales opprest,When skies are cold and misty, and hail is hurling, Wilt thoù glìde on the blue Pacific, or restIn a summer haven asleep, thy white sails furling.

I there before thee, in the country that well thou knowest, Already arrived am inhaling the odorous air:I watch thee enter unerringly where thou goest, And anchor queen of the strange shipping there, Thy sails for awnings spread, thy masts bare:Nor is aught from the foaming reef to the snow-capp’d grandest Peak, that is over the feathery palms, more fairThan thou, so upright, so stately and still thou standest.

And yet, O splendid ship, unhail’d and nameless, I know not if, aiming a fancy, I rightly divineThat thou hast a purpose joyful, a courage blameless, Thy port assured in a happier land than mine.But for all I have given thee, beauty enough is thine, As thou, aslant with trim tackle and shrouding,From the proud nostril curve of a prow’s line In the offing scatterest foam, thy white sails crowding.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,There is a rapture on the lonely shore,There is society where none intrudesBy the deep Sea, and music in its roar:I love not Man the less, but Nature more,From these our interviews, in which I stealFrom all I may be, or have been before,To mingle with the Universe, and feelWhat I can ne'er express, yet can not all conceal.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean, roll!Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;Man marks the earth with ruin, his control

To-day a rude brief recitative,Of ships sailing the seas, each with its special flag or ship-signal,Of unnamed heroes in the ships--of waves spreading and spreading far as the eye can reach,Of dashing spray, and the winds piping and blowing,And out of these a chant for the sailors of all nations, Fitful, like a surge.

Of sea-captains young or old, and the mates, and of all intrepid sailors,Of the few, very choice, taciturn, whom fate can never surprise nor death dismay,Picked sparingly without noise by thee, old ocean, chosen by thee,Thou sea that pickest and cullest the race in time, and unitest nations,

The sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the naked hand;The decks were like a slide, where a seaman scarce could stand;The wind was a nor'-wester, blowing squally off the sea;And cliffs and spouting breakers were the only things a-lee.

They heard the surf a-roaring before the break of day;But 'twas only with the peep of light we saw how ill we lay.We tumbled every hand on deck instanter, with a shout,And we gave her the maintops'l, and stood by to go about.

All day we tacked and tacked between the South Head and the North;All day we hauled the frozen sheets, and got no further forth;All day as cold as charity, in bitter pain and dread,For very life and nature we tacked from head to head.

It keeps eternal whisperings aroundDesolate shores, and with its mighty swellGluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spellOf Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.Often 'tis in such gentle temper found,That scarcely will the very smallest shellBe moved for days from whence it sometime fell,When last the winds of heaven were unbound.Oh ye! who have your eye-balls vexed and tired,Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea;Oh ye! whose ears are dinned with uproar rude,Or fed too much with cloying melody,--Sit ye near some old cavern's mouth, and broodUntil ye start, as if the sea-nymphs quired!

With ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh,Like stars in heaven, and joyously it showed;Some lying fast at anchor in the road,Some veering up and down, one knew not why.A goodly vessel did I then espyCome like a giant from a haven broad;And lustily along the bay she strode,Her tackling rich, and of apparel high.This ship was naught to me, nor I to her,Yet I pursued her with a lover's look;This ship to all the rest did I prefer:When will she turn, and whither? She will brookNo tarrying; where she comes the winds must stir:On went she,--and due north her journey took.

How joyously the young sea-mewLay dreaming on the waters blue,Whereon our little bark had thrownA little shade, the only one,--But shadows ever man pursue.

Familiar with the waves and freeAs if their own white foam were he,His heart upon the heart of oceanLay learning all its mystic motion,And throbbing to the throbbing sea.

And such a brightness in his eye,As if the ocean and the sky

The winds were yelling, the waves were swelling,The sky was black and drear,When the crew with eyes of flame brought the ship without a nameAlongside the last Buccaneer.

"Whence flies your sloop full sail before so fierce a gale,When all others drive bare on the seas?Say, come ye from the shore of the holy Salvador,Or the gulf of the rich Caribbees?"

"From a shore no search hath found, from a gull no line can sound,Without rudder or needle we steer;Above, below our bark dies the sea-fowl and the shark,As we fly by the last Buccaneer.

"To-night there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape de VerdeA loud crash and a louder roar;And to-morrow shall the deep with a heavy moaning sweepThe corpses and wreck to the shore."

The stately ship of Clyde securely now may rideIn the breath of the citron shades;And Severn's towering mast securely now hies fast,Through the seas of the balmy Trades.

From St. Jago's wealthy port, from Havannah's royal fort,The seaman goes forth without fear;For since that stormy night not a mortal hath had sightOf the flag of the last Buccaneer.

No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,The ship was still as she could be;Her sails from Heaven received no motion,Her keel was steady in the ocean.

Without either sign or sound of their shock,The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock;So little they rose, so little they fell,They did not move the Inchcape Bell.

The holy Abbot of AberbrothokHad placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,And over the waves its warning rung.

We are in love's land to-day;Where shall we go?Love, shall we start or stay,Or sail or row?There's many a wind and way,And never a May but May;We are in love's hand to-day;Where shall we go?

Our land-wind is the breathOf sorrows kissed to deathAnd joys that were;Our ballast is a rose;

I will go back to the great sweet mother,--Mother and lover of men, the Sea.I will go down to her, I and none other,Close with her, kiss her, and mix her with me;Cling to her, strive with her, hold her fast;O fair white mother, in days long pastBorn without sister, born without brother,Set free my soul as thy soul is free.

O fair green-girdled mother of mine,Sea, that art clothed with the sun and the rain,Thy sweet hard kisses are strong like wine,Thy large embraces are keen like pain.

O happy dames! that may embrace The fruit of your delight,Help to bewail the woful case And eke the heavy plightOf me, that wonted to rejoiceThe fortune of my pleasant choice:Good ladies, help to fill my mourning voice.

In ship, freight with rememberance Of thoughts and pleasures past,He sails that hath in governance My life while it will last:With scalding sighs, for lack of gale,

Stars trembling o'er us and sunset before us,Mountains in shadow and forests asleep;Down the dim river we float on forever,Speak not, ah, breathe not--there's peace on the deep.

Come not, pale sorrow, flee till to-morrow;Rest softly falling o'er eyelids that weep;While down the river we float on forever,Speak not, ah, breathe not--there's peace on the deep.

As the waves cover the depths we glide over,So let the past in forgetfulness sleep,While down the river we float on forever,Speak not, ah, breathe not--there's peace on the deep.

Heaven shine above us, bless all that love us;All whom we love in thy tenderness keep!While down the river we float on forever,Speak not, ah, breathe not--there's peace on the deep.

The clouds are scudding across the moon;A misty light is on the sea;The wind in the shrouds has a wintry tune,And the foam is flying free.

Brothers, a night of terror and gloomSpeaks in the cloud and gathering roar;Thank God, He has given us broad sea-room,A thousand miles from shore.

Down with the hatches on those who sleep!The wild and whistling deck have we;Good watch, my brothers, to-night we'll keep,While the tempest is on the sea!

Though the rigging shriek in his terrible grip,And the naked spars be snapped away,Lashed to the helm, we'll drive our shipIn the teeth of the whelming spray!

Hark! how the surges o'erleap the deck!Hark! how the pitiless tempest raves!Ah, daylight will look upon many a wreckDrifting over the desert waves.

Yet, courage, brothers! we trust the wave,With God above us, our guiding chart.So, whether to harbor or ocean-grave,Be it still with a cheery heart!

Head the ship for England!Shake out every sail!Blithe leap the billows,Merry sings the gale.Captain, work the reckoning;How many knots a day?--Round the world and home again,That's the sailor's way!

We've traded with the Yankees,Brazilians and Chinese;We've laughed with dusky beautiesIn shade of tall palm-trees;

The boats go out and the boats come inUnder the wintry sky;And the rain and foam are white in the wind,And the white gulls cry.

She sees the sea when the wind is wildSwept by a windy rain;And her heart's a-weary of sea and landAs the long days wane.

She sees the torn sails fly in the foam,Broad on the sky-line gray;And the boats go out and the boats come in,But there's one away.

Thou that hast a daughterFor one to woo and wed,Give her to a husbandWith snow upon his head;Oh, give her to an old man,Though little joy it be,Before the best young sailorThat sails upon the sea!

How luckless is the sailorWhen sick and like to die;He sees no tender mother,No sweetheart standing by.

Go, patter to lubbers and swabs, do ye see,'Bout danger, and fear, and the like;A water-tight boat and good sea-room for me,And it ain't to a little I'll strike.Though the tempest topgallant-masts smack smooth should smite,And shiver each splinter of wood,--Clear the deck, stow the yards, and house everything tight,And under reefed foresail we'll scud:Avast! nor don't think me a milksop so softTo be taken for trifles aback;For they say there's a Providence sits up aloft,To keep watch for the life of poor Jack!

For England, when with favoring gale,Our gallant ship up Channel steered,And scudding, under easy sail,The high blue western lands appeared,To heave the lead the seaman sprang,And to the pilot cheerly sang,"By the deep--Nine."

And bearing up to gain the port,Some well-known object kept in view,An abbey tower, a ruined fort,A beacon to the vessel true;While oft the lead the seaman flung,

Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling,The darling of our crew;No more he'll hear the tempest howling,For death has broached him to.His form was of the manliest beauty,His heart was kind and soft;Faithful, below, he did his duty;But now he's gone aloft.

Tom never from his word departed,His virtues were so rare;His friends were many and true-hearted,His Poll was kind and fair:And then he'd sing, so blithe and jolly,Ah, many's the time and oft!But mirth is turned to melancholy,For Tom is gone aloft.

Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather,When He, who all commands,Shall give, to call Life's crew together,The word to "pipe all hands."Thus Death, who Kings and Tars despatches,In vain Tom's life has doffed;For, though his body's under hatches,His soul is gone aloft.

O lonesome sea-gull, floating farOver the ocean's icy waste,Aimless and wide thy wanderings are,Forever vainly seeking rest:--Where is thy mate, and where thy nest?

'Twixt wintry sea and wintry sky,Cleaving the keen air with thy breast,Thou sailest slowly, solemnly;No fetter on thy wing is pressed:--Where is thy mate, and where thy nest?

O restless, homeless human soul,Following for aye thy nameless quest,The gulls float, and the billows roll;Thou watchest still, and questionest:--Where is thy mate, and where thy nest?