| THE sun is warm, the sky is clear, | |
| The waves are dancing fast and bright, | |
| Blue isles and snowy mountains wear | |
| The purple noon's transparent might: | |
| The breath of the moist earth is light | 5 |
| Around its unexpanded buds; | |
| Like many a voice of one delight— | |
| The winds', the birds', the ocean-floods'— | |
| The city's voice itself is soft like solitude's. | |
| |
| I see the deep's untrampled floor | 10 |
| With green and purple seaweeds strown; | |
| I see the waves upon the shore | |
| Like light dissolved in star-showers thrown. | |
| I sit upon the sands alone; | |
| The lightning of the noontide ocean | 15 |
| Is flashing round me, and a tone | |
| Arises from its measured motion— | |
| How sweet, did any heart now share in my emotion! | |
| |
| Alas! I have nor hope nor health, | |
| Nor peace within nor calm around; | 20 |
| Nor that content, surpassing wealth, | |
| The sage in meditation found, | |
| And walk'd with inward glory crown'd; | |
| Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. | |
| Others I see whom these surround— | 25 |
| Smiling they live, and call life pleasure: | |
| To me that cup has been dealt in another measure. | |
| |
| Yet now despair itself is mild, | |
| Even as the winds and waters are; | |
| I could lie down like a tired child, | 30 |
| And weep away the life of care | |
| Which I have borne, and yet must bear,— | |
| Till death like sleep might steal on me, | |
| And I might feel in the warm air | |
| My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea | 35 |
| Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. | |
| |
