Thalassius
Upon
the
flowery
forefront
of
the
year,
One
wandering
by
the
grey-green
April
sea
Found
on
a
reach
of
shingle
and
shallower
sand
Inlaid
with
starrier
glimmering
jewellery
Left
for
the
sun's
love
and
the
light
wind's
cheer
Along
the
foam-flowered
strand
Breeze-brightened, something
nearer
sea
than
land
Though
the
last
shoreward
blossom-fringe
was
near,
A
babe
asleep
with
flower-soft
face
that
gleamed
To
sun
and
seaward
as
it
laughed
and
dreamed,
Too
sure
of
either
love
for
either's
fear,
Albeit
so
birdlike
slight
and
light, it
seemed
Nor
man
nor
mortal
child
of
man, but
fair
As
even
its
twin-born
tenderer
spray-flowers
were,
That
the
wind
scatters
like
an
Oread's
hair.
For
when
July
strewed
fire
on
earth
and
sea
The
last
time
ere
that
year,
Out
of
the
flame
of
morn
Cymothoe
Beheld
one
brighter
than
the
sunbright
sphere
Move
toward
her
from
its
fieriest
heart, whence
trod
The
live
sun's
very
God,
Across
the
foam-bright
water-ways
that
are
As
heavenlier
heavens
with
star
for
answering
star,
And
on
her
eyes
and
hair
and
maiden
mouth
Felt
a
kiss
falling
fierier
than
the
South
And
heard
above
afar
A
noise
of
songs
and
wind-enamoured
wings
And
lutes
and
lyres
of
milder
and
mightier
strings,
And
round
the
resonant
radiance
of
his
car
Where
depth
is
one
with
height,
Light
heard
as
music, music
seen
as
light.
And
with
that
second
moondawn
of
the
spring's
That
fosters
the
first
rose,
A
sun-child
whiter
than
the
sunlit
snows
Was
born
out
of
the
world
of
sunless
things
That
round
the
round
earth
flows
and
ebbs
and
flows.
But
he
that
found
the
sea-flower
by
the
sea
And
took
to
foster
like
a
graft
of
earth
Was
born
of
man's
most
highest
and
heavenliest
birth,
Free-born
as
winds
and
stars
and
waves
are
free;
A
warrior
grey
with
glories
more
than
years,
Though
more
of
years
than
change
the
quick
to
dead
Had
rained
their
light
and
darkness
on
his
head;
A
singer
that
in
time's
and
memory's
ears
Should
leave
such
words
to
sing
as
all
his
peers
Might
praise
with
hallowing
heat
of
rapturous
tears
Till
all
the
days
of
human
flight
were
fled.
And
at
his
knees
his
fosterling
was
fed
Not
with
man's
wine
and
bread
Nor
mortal
mother-milk
of
hopes
and
fears,
But
food
of
deep
memorial
days
long
sped;
For
bread
with
wisdom
and
with
song
for
wine
Clear
as
the
full
calm's
emerald
hyaline.
hyaline Poetic/literary language for something clear and translucent like
glass, esp. a smooth sea or a clear sky.
And
from
his
grave
glad
lips
the
boy
would
gather
Fine
honey
of
song-notes
goldener
than
gold,
More
sweet
than
bees
make
of
the
breathing
heather,
That
he, as
glad
and
bold,
Might
drink
as
they, and
keep
his
spirit
from
cold.
And
the
boy
loved
his
laurel-laden
hair
As
his
own
father's
risen
on
the
eastern
air,
And
that
less
white
brow-binding
bayleaf
bloom
More
than
all
flowers
his
father's
eyes
relume;
And
those
high
songs
he
heard,
More
than
all
notes
of
any
landward
bird,
More
than
all
sounds
less
free
Than
the
wind's
quiring
to
the
choral
sea.
High
things
the
high
song
taught
him; how
the
breath
Too
frail
for
life
may
be
more
strong
than
death;
And
this
poor
flash
of
sense
in
life, that
gleams
As
a
ghost's
glory
in
dreams,
More
stabile
than
the
world's
own
heart's
root
seems,
By
that
strong
faith
of
lordliest
love
which
gives
To
death's
own
sightless-seeming
eyes
a
light
Clearer, to
death's
bare
bones
a
verier
might,
Than
shines
or
strikes
from
any
man
that
lives.
How
he
that
loves
life
overmuch
shall
die
The
dog's
death, utterly:
And
he
that
much
less
loves
it
than
he
hates
All
wrongdoing
that
is
done
Anywhere
always
underneath
the
sun
Shall
live
a
mightier
life
than
time's
or
fate's.
One
fairer
thing
he
shewed
him, and
in
might
More
strong
than
day
and
night
Whose
strengths
build
up
time's
towering
period:
Yea, one
thing
stronger
and
more
high
than
God,
Which
if
man
had
not, then
should
God
not
be:
And
that
was
Liberty.
And
gladly
should
man
die
to
gain, he
said,
Freedom; and
gladlier, having
lost, lie
dead.
For
man's
earth
was
not, nor
the
sweet
sea-waves
His, nor
his
own
land, nor
its
very
graves,
Except
they
bred
not, bore
not, hid
not
slaves:
But
all
of
all
that
is,
Were
one
man
free
in
body
and
soul, were
his.
And
the
song
softened, even
as
heaven
by
night
Softens, from
sunnier
down
to
starrier
light,
And
with
its
moonbright
breath
Blessed
life
for
death's
sake, and
for
life's
sake
death.
Till
as
the
moon's
own
beam
and
breath
confuse
In
one
clear
hueless
haze
of
glimmering
hues
The
sea's
line
and
the
land's
line
and
the
sky's,
And
light
for
love
of
darkness
almost
dies,
As
darkness
only
lives
for
light's
dear
love,
Whose
hands
the
web
of
night
is
woven
of,
So
in
that
heaven
of
wondrous
words
were
life
And
death
brought
out
of
strife;
Yea, by
that
strong
spell
of
serene
increase
brought
out
of
strife
to
peace.
And
the
song
lightened, as
the
wind
at
morn
Flashes, and
even
with
lightning
of
the
wind
Night's
thick-spun
web
is
thinned
And
all
its
weft
unwoven
and
overworn
Shrinks, as
might
love
from
scorn.
And
as
when
wind
and
light
on
water
and
land
Leap
as
twin
gods
from
heavenward
hand
in
hand,
And
with
the
sound
and
splendour
of
their
leap
Strike
darkness
dead, and
daunt
the
spirit
of
sleep,
And
burn
it
up
with
fire;
So
with
the
light
that
lightened
from
the
lyre
Was
all
the
bright
heat
in
the
child's
heart
stirred
And
blown
with
blasts
of
music
into
flame
Till
even
his
sense
became
Fire, as
the
sense
that
fires
the
devouring
bird
Whose
song
calls
night
by
name.
And
in
the
soul
within
the
sense
began
The
manlike
passion
of
a
godlike
man,
And
in
the
sense
within
the
soul
again
Thoughts
that
make
men
of
gods
and
gods
of
men.
For
love
the
high
song
taught
him: love
that
turns
God's
heart
toward
man
as
man's
to
Godward; love
That
life
and
death
and
life
are
fashioned
of,
From
the
first
breath
that
burns
Half
kindled
on
the
flowerlike
yeanling's
lip,
So
light
and
faint
that
life
seems
like
to
slip,
To
that
yet
weaklier
drawn
When
sunset
dies
of
night's
devouring
dawn.
But
the
man
dying
not
wholly
as
all
men
dies
If
aught
be
left
of
his
in
live
men's
eyes
Out
of
the
dawnless
dark
of
death
to
rise;
If
aught
of
deed
or
word
Be
seen
for
all
time
or
of
all
time
heard.
Love, that
though
body
and
soul
were
overthrown
Should
live
for
love's
sake
of
itself
alone,
Though
spirit
and
flesh
were
one
thing
doomed
and
dead,
Not
wholly
annihilated.
Seeing
even
the
hoariest
ash-flake
that
the
pyre
Drops, and
forgets
the
thing
was
once
afire
And
gave
its
heart
to
feed
the
pile's
full
flame
Till
its
own
heart
its
own
heat
overcame,
Outlives
its
own
life, though
by
scarce
a
span,
As
such
men
dying
outlive
themselves
in
man,
outlive
themselves
for
ever; if
the
heat
Outburn
the
heart
that
kindled
it, the
sweet
Outlast
the
flower
Whose
soul
it
was, and
flit
Forth
of
the
body
of
it
Into
some
new
shape
of
a
strange
perfume
More
potent
than
its
light
live
spirit
of
bloom,
How
shall
not
something
of
that
soul
relive,
That
only
soul
that
had
such
gifts
to
give
As
lighten
something
even
of
all
men's
doom
Even
from
the
labouring
womb
Even
to
the
seal
set
on
the
unopening
tomb?
And
these
the
loving
light
of
song
and
love
Shall
wrap
and
lap
round
and
impend
impend To hang or be suspended (over); to overhang.
above,
Imperishable; and
all
springs
born
illume
Their
sleep
with
brighter
thoughts
than
wake
the
dove
To
music, when
the
hillside
winds
resume
The
marriage-song
of
heather-flower
and
broom
And
all
the
joy
thereof.
And
hate
the
song
too
taught
him: hate
of
all
That
brings
or
holds
in
thrall
Of
spirit
or
flesh, free-born
ere
God
began,
The
holy
body
and
sacred
soul
of
man.
And
wheresoever
a
curse
was
or
a
chain,
A
throne
for
torment
or
a
crown
for
bane
Rose, moulded
out
of
poor
men's
molten
pain,
There, said
he, should
man's
heaviest
hate
be
set
Inexorably, to
faint
not
or
forget
Till
the
last
warmth
bled
Forth
of
the
last
vein
In
flesh
that
none
should
call
a
king's
again,
Seeing
wolves
and
dogs
and
birds
that
plague-Strike
air
Leave
the
last
bone
of
all
the
carrion
bare.
And
hope
the
high
song
taught
him: hope
whose
eyes
Can
sound
the
seas
unsoundable, the
skies
Inaccessible
of
eyesight; that
can
see
What
earth
beholds
not, hear
What
wind
and
sea
Hear
not, and
speak
What
all
these
crying
in
one
Can
speak
not
to
the
sun.
For
in
her
sovereign
eyelight
all
things
are
Clear
as
the
closest
seen
and
kindlier
star
That
marries
morn
and
even
and
winter
and
spring
With
one
love's
golden
ring.
For
she
can
see
the
days
of
man, the
birth
Of
good
and
death
of
evil
things
on
earth
Inevitable
and
infinite, and
sure
As
present
pain
is, or
herself
is
pure.
Yea, she
Can
hear
and
see, beyond
all
things
That
lighten
from
before
Time's
thunderous
wings
Through
the
awful
circle
of
wheel-winged
periods,
The
tempest
of
the
twilight
of
all
Gods:
And
higher
than
all
the
circling
course
they
ran
The
sundawn
of
the
spirit
that
was
man.
And
fear
the
song
too
taught
him; fear
to
be
Worthless
the
dear
love
of
the
wind
and
sea
That
bred
him
fearless, like
a
sea-mew
reared
In
rocks
of
man's
foot
feared,
Where
nought
of
wingless
life
may
sing
or
shine.
Fear
to
wax
worthless
of
that
heaven
he
had
When
all
the
life
in
all
his
limbs
was
glad
And
all
the
drops
in
all
his
veins
were
wine
And
all
the
pulses
music; when
his
heart,
Singing, bade
heaven
and
wind
and
sea
bear
part
In
one
live
song's
reiterance, and
they
bore:
Fear
to
go
crownless
of
the
flower
he
wore
When
the
winds
loved
him
and
the
waters
knew,
The
blithest
life
that
clove
their
blithe
life
through
With
living
limbs
exultant, or
held
strife
More
amorous
than
all
dalliance
aye
anew
With
the
bright
breath
and
strength
of
their
large
life,
With
all
strong
wrath
of
all
sheer
winds
that
blew,
All
glories
of
all
storms
of
the
air
that
fell
Prone, ineluctable,
With
roar
from
heaven
of
revel, and
with
hue
As
of
a
heaven
turned
hell.
For
when
the
red
blast
of
their
breath
had
made
All
heaven
aflush
with
light
more
dire
than
shade,
He
felt
it
in
his
blood
and
eyes
and
hair
burn
as
if
all
the
fires
of
the
earth
and
air
Had
laid
strong
hold
upon
his
flesh, and
stung
The
soul
behind
it
as
with
serpent's
tongue,
Forked
like
the
loveliest
lightnings: nor
could
bear
But
hardly, half
distraught
with
strong
delight,
The
joy
that
like
a
garment
wrapped
him
round
And
lapped
him
over
and
under
With
raiment
of
great
light
And
rapture
of
great
sound
At
every
loud
leap
earthward
of
the
thunder
From
heaven's
most
furthest
bound:
So
seemed
all
heaven
in
hearing
and
in
sight,
Alive
and
mad
with
glory
and
angry
joy,
That
something
of
its
marvellous
mirth
and
might
Moved
even
to
madness, fledged
as
even
for
flight,
The
blood
and
spirit
of
one
but
mortal
boy.
So, clothed
with
love
and
fear
that
love
makes
great,
And
armed
with
hope
and
hate,
He
set
first
foot
upon
the
spring-flowered
ways
That
all
feet
pass
and
praise.
And
one
dim
dawn
between
the
winter
and
spring,
In
the
sharp
harsh
wind
harrying
heaven
and
earth
To
put
back
April
that
had
borne
his
birth
From
sunward
on
her
sunniest
shower-struck
wing,
With
tears
and
laughter
for
the
dew-dropt
thing,
Slight
as
indeed
a
dew-drop, by
the
sea
One
met
him
lovelier
than
all
men
may
be,
God-featured, with
god's
eyes; and
in
their
might
Somewhat
that
drew
men's
own
to
mar
their
sight,
Even
of
all
eyes
drawn
toward
him: and
his
mouth
Was
as
the
very
rose
of
all
men's
youth,
One
rose
of
all
the
rose-beds
in
the
world:
But
round
his
brows
the
curls
were
snakes
that
curled,
And
like
his
tongue
a
serpent's; and
his
voice
Speaks
death, and
bids
rejoice.
yet
then
he
spake
no
word, seeming
as
dumb,
A
dumb
thing
mild
and
hurtless; nor
at
first
From
his
bowed
eyes
seemed
any
light
to
come,
Nor
his
meek
lips
for
blood
or
tears
to
thirst:
But
as
one
blind
and
mute
in
mild
sweet
wise
Pleading
for
pity
of
piteous
lips
and
eyes,
He
strayed
with
faint
bare
lily-lovely
feet
Helpless, and
flowerlike
sweet:
Nor
might
man
see, not
having
word
hereof,
That
this
of
all
gods
was
the
great
god
Love.
And
seeing
him
lovely
and
like
a
little
child
That
wellnigh
wept
for
wonder
that
it
smiled
And
was
so
feeble
and
fearful, with
soft
speech
The
youth
bespake
him
softly; but
There
fell
From
the
sweet
lips
no
sweet
word
audible
That
ear
or
thought
might
reach:
No
sound
to
make
the
dim
cold
silence
glad,
No
breath
to
thaw
the
hard
harsh
air
with
heat;
Only
the
saddest
smile
of
all
things
sweet,
Only
the
sweetest
smile
of
all
things
sad.
And
so
they
went
together
one
green
way
Till
April
dying
made
free
the
world
for
May;
And
on
his
guide
suddenly
Love's
face
turned,
And
in
his
blind
eyes
burned
Hard
light
and
heat
of
laughter; and
like
flame
That
opens
in
a
mountain's
ravening
mouth
To
blear
and
sear
the
sunlight
from
the
south,
His
mute
mouth
opened, and
his
first
word
came:
‘Knowest thou
me
now
by
name?’
And
all
his
stature
waxed
immeasurable,
As
of
one
shadowing
heaven
and
lightening
hell;
And
statelier
stood
he
than
a
tower
that
stands
And
darkens
with
its
darkness
far-off
sands
Whereon
the
sky
leans
red;
And
with
a
voice
that
stilled
the
winds
he
said:
‘I am
he
that
was
thy
lord
before
thy
birth,
I
am
he
that
is
thy
lord
till
thou
turn
earth:
I
make
the
night
more
dark, and
all
the
morrow
Dark
as
the
night
Whose
darkness
was
my
breath:
O
fool, my
name
is
sorrow;
Thou
fool, my
name
is
death.’
And
he
that
heard
spake
not, and
looked
right
on
Again, and
Love
was
gone.
Through
many
a
night
toward
many
a
wearier
day
His
spirit
bore
his
body
down
its
way.
Through
many
a
day
toward
many
a
wearier
night
His
soul
sustained
his
sorrows
in
her
sight.
And
earth
was
bitter, and
heaven, and
even
the
sea
Sorrowful
even
as
he.
And
the
wind
helped
not, and
the
sun
was
dumb;
And
with
too
long
strong
stress
of
grief
to
be
His
heart
grew
sere
and
numb.
And
one
bright
eve
ere
summer
in
autumn
sank
At
stardawn
standing
on
a
grey
sea-bank
He
felt
the
wind
fitfully
shift
and
heave
As
toward
a
stormier
eve;
And
all
the
wan
wide
sea
shuddered; and
earth
Shook
underfoot
as
toward
some
timeless
birth,
Intolerable
and
Inevitable; and
all
Heaven, darkling, trembled
like
a
stricken
thrall.
And
far
out
of
the
quivering
east, and
far
From
past
the
moonrise
and
its
guiding
star,
Began
a
noise
of
tempest
and
a
light
That
was
not
of
the
lightning; and
a
sound
Rang
with
it
round
and
round
That
was
not
of
the
thunder; and
a
flight
As
of
blown
clouds
by
night,
That
was
not
of
them; and
with
songs
and
cries
That
sang
and
shrieked
their
soul
out
at
the
skies
A
shapeless
earthly
storm
of
shapes
began
From
all
ways
round
to
move
in
on
the
man,
Clamorous
against
him
silent; and
their
feet
Were
as
the
wind's
are
fleet,
And
their
shrill
songs
were
as
wild
birds'
are
sweet.
And
as
when
all
the
world
of
earth
was
wronged
And
all
the
host
of
all
men
driven
afoam
By
the
red
hand
of
Rome,
Round
some
fierce
amphitheatre
overthronged
With
fair
clear
faces
full
of
bloodier
lust
Than
swells
and
stings
the
tiger
when
his
mood
Is
fieriest
after
blood
And
drunk
with
trampling
of
the
murderous
must
That
soaks
and
stains
the
tortuous
close-coiled
wood
Made
monstrous
with
its
myriad-mustering
brood,
Face
by
fair
face
panted
and
gleamed
and
pressed,
And
breast
by
passionate
breast
Heaved
hot
with
ravenous
rapture, as
they
quaffed
The
red
ripe
full
fume
of
the
deep
live
draught,
The
sharp
quick
reek
of
keen
fresh
bloodshed, blown
Through
the
dense
deep
drift
up
to
the
emperor's
throne
From
the
under
steaming
sands
With
clamour
of
all-applausive
throats
and
hands,
Mingling
in
mirthful
time
With
shrill
blithe
mockeries
of
the
lithe-limbed
mime:
So
from
somewhence
far
forth
of
the
unbeholden,
Dreadfully
driven
from
over
and
after
and
under,
Fierce, blown
through
fifes
of
brazen
blast
and
golden,
With
sound
of
chiming
waves
that
drown
the
thunder
Or
thunder
that
strikes
dumb
the
sea's
own
chimes,
Began
the
bellowing
of
the
bull-voiced
mimes,
Terrible; firs
bowed
down
as
briars
or
palms
Even
at
the
breathless
blast
as
of
a
breeze
Fulfilled
with
clamour
and
clangour
and
storms
of
psalms;
Red
hands
rent
up
the
roots
of
old-world
trees,
thick
flames
of
torches
tossed
as
tumbling
seas
made
mad
the
moonless
and
infuriate
air
That, ravening, revelled
in
the
riotous
hair
And
raiment
of
the
furred
Bassarides.
So
came
all
those
in
on
him; and
his
heart,
As
out
of
sleep
suddenly
struck
astart,
Danced, and
his
flesh
took
fire
of
theirs, and
grief
Was
as
a
last
year's
leaf
Blown
dead
far
down
the
wind's
way; and
he
set
His
pale
mouth
to
the
brightest
mouth
it
met
That
laughed
for
love
against
his
lips, and
bade
Follow; and
in
following
all
his
blood
grew
glad
And
as
again
a
sea-bird's; for
the
wind
Took
him
to
bathe
him
deep
round
breast
and
brow
Not
as
it
takes
a
dead
leaf
drained
and
thinned,
But
as
the
brightest
bay-flower
blown
on
bough,
Set
springing
toward
it
singing: and
they
rode
By
many
a
vine-leafed, many
a
rose-hung
road,
Exalt
with
exultation; many
a
night
Set
all
its
stars
upon
them
as
for
spies
On
many
a
moon-bewildering
mountain-height
Where
he
rode
only
by
the
fierier
light
Of
his
dread
lady's
hot
sweet
hungering
eyes.
For
the
moon
wandered
witless
of
her
way,
spell-stricken
by
strong
magic
in
such
wise
As
wizards
use
to
set
the
stars
astray.
And
in
his
ears
the
music
that
makes
mad
Beat
always; and
What
way
the
music
bade,
That
alway
rode
he; nor
was
any
sleep
His, nor
from
height
nor
deep.
But
heaven
was
as
red
iron, slumberless,
And
had
no
heart
to
bless;
And
earth
lay
sere
and
darkling
as
distraught,
And
help
in
her
was
nought.
Then
many
a
midnight, many
a
morn
and
even,
His
mother, passing
forth
of
her
fair
heaven,
With
goodlier
gifts
than
all
save
gods
can
give
From
earth
or
from
the
heaven
where
sea-things
live,
With
shine
of
sea-flowers
through
the
bay-leaf
braid
Woven
for
a
crown
her
foam-white
hands
had
made
To
crown
him
with
land's
laurel
and
sea-dew,
Sought
the
sea-bird
that
was
her
boy: but
he
Sat
panther-throned
beside
Erigone,
Riding
the
red
ways
of
the
revel
through
Midmost
of
pale-mouthed
passion's
crownless
crew.
Till
on
some
winter's
dawn
of
some
dim
year
He
let
the
vine-bit
on
the
panther's
lip
Slide, and
the
green
rein
slip,
And
set
his
eyes
to
seaward, nor
gave
ear
If
sound
from
landward
hailed
him, dire
or
dear;
And
passing
forth
of
all
those
fair
fierce
ranks
Back
to
the
grey
sea-banks,
Against
a
sea-rock
lying, aslant
the
steep,
Fell
after
many
sleepless
dreams
on
sleep.
And
in
his
sleep
the
dun
green
light
was
shed
Heavily
round
his
head
That
through
the
veil
of
sea
falls
fathom-deep,
Blurred
like
a
lamp's
that
when
the
night
drops
dead
Dies; and
his
eyes
gat
grace
of
sleep
to
see
The
deep
divine
dark
dayshine
of
the
sea,
Dense
water-walls
and
clear
dusk
water-ways,
Broad-based, or
branching
as
a
sea-flower
sprays
That
side
or
this
dividing; and
anew
The
glory
of
all
her
glories
that
he
knew.
And
in
sharp
rapture
of
recovering
tears
He
woke
on
fire
with
yearnings
of
old
years,
Pure
as
one
purged
of
pain
that
passion
bore,
Ill
child
of
bitter
mother; for
his
own
looked
laughing
toward
him
from
her
midsea
throne,
up
toward
him
There
ashore.
Thence
in
his
heart
the
great
same
joy
began,
Of
child
that
made
him
man:
And
turned
again
from
all
hearts
else
on
quest,
He
communed
with
his
own
heart, and
had
rest.
And
like
sea-winds
upon
loud
waters
ran
His
days
and
dreams
together, till
the
joy
Burned
in
him
of
the
boy.
Till
the
earth's
great
comfort
and
the
sweet
sea's
breath
Breathed
and
blew
life
in
where
was
heartless
death,
Death
spirit-stricken
of
soul-sick
days, where
strife
Of
thought
and
flesh
made
mock
of
death
and
life.
And
grace
returned
upon
him
of
his
birth
Where
heaven
was
mixed
with
heavenlike
sea
and
earth;
And
song
shot
forth
strong
wings
that
took
the
sun
From
inward, fledged
with
might
of
sorrow
and
mirth
And
father's
fire
made
mortal
in
his
son.
Nor
was
not
spirit
of
strength
in
blast
and
breeze
To
exalt
again
the
sun's
child
and
the
sea's;
For
as
wild
mares
in
Thessaly
grow
great
With
child
of
ravishing
winds, that
violate
Their
leaping
length
of
limb
with
manes
like
fire
And
eyes
outburning
heaven's
With
fires
more
violent
than
the
lightning
levin’s
levin Archaic term for lightning; thunderbolts.
And
breath
drained
out
and
desperate
of
desire,
Even
so
the
spirit
in
him, when
winds
grew
strong,
Grew
great
with
child
of
song.
Nor
less
than
when
his
veins
first
leapt
for
joy
To
draw
delight
in
such
as
burns
a
boy,
Now
too
the
soul
of
all
his
senses
felt
The
passionate
pride
of
deep
sea-pulses
dealt
Through
nerve
and
jubilant
vein
As
from
the
love
and
largess
of
old
time,
And
with
his
heart
again
The
tidal
throb
of
all
the
tides
keep
rhyme
And
charm
him
from
his
own
soul's
separate
sense
With
infinite
and
invasive
influence
That
made
strength
sweet
in
him
and
sweetness
strong,
Being
now
no
more
a
singer, but
a
song.
Till
one
clear
day
when
brighter
sea-wind
blew
And
louder
sea-shine
lightened, for
the
waves
Were
full
of
godhead
and
the
light
that
saves,
His
father's, and
their
spirit
had
pierced
him
through,
He
felt
strange
breath
and
light
all
round
him
shed
That
bowed
him
down
with
rapture; and
he
knew
His
father's
hand, hallowing
his
humbled
head,
And
the
old
great
voice
of
the
old
good
time, that
said:
“Child
of
my
sunlight
and
the
sea, from
birth
A
fosterling
and
fugitive
on
earth;
Sleepless
of
soul
as
wind
or
wave
or
fire,
A
manchild
with
an
ungrown
God's
desire;
Because
thou
hast
loved
nought
mortal
more
than
me,
Thy
father, and
thy
mother-hearted
sea;
Because
thou
hast
set
thine
heart
to
sing, and
sold
Life
and
life's
love
for
song, God's
living
gold;
Because
thou
hast
given
thy
flower
and
fire
of
youth
To
feed
men's
hearts
with
visions, truer
than
truth;
Because
thou
hast
kept
in
those
world-wandering
eyes
The
light
that
makes
me
music
of
the
skies;
Because
thou
hast
heard
with
world-unwearied
ears
The
music
that
puts
light
into
the
spheres;
Have
therefore
in
thine
heart
and
in
thy
mouth
The
sound
of
song
that
mingles
north
and
south,
The
song
of
all
the
winds
that
sing
of
me,
And
in
thy
soul
the
sense
of
all
the
sea.”