Sea, Rivers and Oceans

Once more upon the waters, yet once more! And the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rider!

Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O, well for the fisherman’s boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O, well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O, for the touch of a vanish’d hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!

 

And the stately ships go on

 

The deep

 

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, The furrow followed free; We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea.

She sang beyond the genius of the sea.

Cold dark deep and absolutely clear, element bearable to no mortal, to fish and to seals…

I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope .

 

It is like what we imagine knowledge to be: dark, salt, clear, moving, utterly free, drawn from the cold hard mouth of the world, derived from the rocky breasts forever, flowing and drawn, and since our knowledge is historical, flowing, and flown.

It is found again. What? Eternity. It is the sea Gone with the sun. 11

The water never formed to mind or voice,

Under Pont Mirabeau flows the Seine. 3

Of the Sea… Devouring the green azures. 6

… Je me suis baigné dans le Poème

Lighter than a cork I danced on the waves. 5

I have seen the sunset, stained with mystic horrors, Illumine the rolling waves with long purple forms, Like actors in ancient plays. 7

Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever.

a crystal willow, a poplar of water, a tall fountain the wind arches over, a tree deep-rooted yet dancing still, a course of a river that turns, moves on, doubles back, and comes full circle, forever arriving:

The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured sea

Men really need sea-monsters in their personal oceans. . . . An ocean without its unnamed monsters would be like a completely dreamless sleep.

A pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea.

And still the grossest iridescence of ocean Howls hoo and rises and howls hoo and falls.

The sea is everything. It covers seven tenthsof the terrestrial globe. Its breath is pure and healthy. It is an immense desert, where man is never lonely, for he feels life stirring on all sides. The sea is only the embodiment of asupernatural and wonderful existence. It is nothing but love and emotion.