Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By Elisabeth (Cabazza)Pullen

1237 The Sea-Weed

THE FLYING sea-bird mocked the floating dulse:

“Poor wandering water-weed, where dost thou go,

Astray upon the ocean’s restless pulse?”

It said: “I do not know.

“At a cliff’s foot I clung and was content,

Swayed to and fro by warm and shallow waves;

Along the coast the storm-wind raging went,

And tore me from my caves.

“I am the bitter herbage of that plain

Where no flocks pasture, and no man shall have

Homestead, nor any tenure there may gain

But only for a grave.

“A worthless weed, a drifting, broken weed,

What can I do in all this boundless sea?

No creature of the universe has need

Or any thought of me.”

Hither and yonder, as the winds might blow,

The sea-weed floated. Then a refluent tide

Swept it along to meet a galleon’s prow—

“Land ho!” Columbus cried.