Full Online Books
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
Full Online Book HomePoemsA Sea Dialogue
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
A Sea Dialogue Post by :kmcvay Category :Poems Author :Oliver Wendell Holmes Date :November 2010 Read :2938

Click below to download : A Sea Dialogue (Format : PDF)

A Sea Dialogue

Cabin Passenger. Man at Wheel.

FRIEND, you seem thoughtful. I not wonder much
That he who sails the ocean should be sad.
I am myself reflective. When I think
Of all this wallowing beast, the Sea, has sucked
Between his sharp, thin lips, the wedgy waves,
What heaps of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, pearls;
What piles of shekels, talents, ducats, crowns,
What bales of Tyrian mantles, Indian shawls,
Of laces that have blanked the weavers' eyes,
Of silken tissues, wrought by worm and man,
The half-starved workman, and the well-fed worm;
What marbles, bronzes, pictures, parchments, books;
What many-lobuled, thought-engendering brains;
Lie with the gaping sea-shells in his maw,--
I, too, am silent; for all language seems
A mockery, and the speech of man is vain.
O mariner, we look upon the waves
And they rebuke our babbling. "Peace!" they say,--
"Mortal, be still!" My noisy tongue is hushed,
And with my trembling finger on my lips
My soul exclaims in ecstasy--


Ah yes! "Delay,"--it calls, "nor haste to break
The charm of stillness with an idle word!"
O mariner, I love thee, for thy thought
Strides even with my own, nay, flies before.
Thou art a brother to the wind and wave;
Have they not music for thine ear as mine,
When the wild tempest makes thy ship his lyre,
Smiting a cavernous basso from the shrouds
And climbing up his gamut through the stays,
Through buntlines, bowlines, ratlines, till it shrills
An alto keener than the locust sings,
And all the great Aeolian orchestra
Storms out its mad sonata in the gale?
Is not the scene a wondrous and--

A vast!

Ah yes, a vast, a vast and wondrous scene!
I see thy soul is open as the day
That holds the sunshine in its azure bowl
To all the solemn glories of the deep.
Tell me, O mariner, dost thou never feel
The grandeur of thine office,--to control
The keel that cuts the ocean like a knife
And leaves a wake behind it like a seam
In the great shining garment of the world?

Belay y'r jaw, y' swab! y' hoss-marine!
(To the Captain.)
Ay, ay, Sir! Stiddy, Sir! Sou'wes' b' sou'!

November 10, 1864.

(The end)
Oliver Wendell Holmes's poem: Sea Dialogue

If you like this book please share to your friends :

Chanson Without Music Chanson Without Music

Chanson Without Music
BY THE PROFESSOR EMERITUS OF DEAD AND LIVE LANGUAGESPHI BETA KAPPA.--CAMBRIDGE, 1867You bid me sing,--can I forgetThe classic ode of days gone by,--How belle Fifine and jeune LisetteExclaimed, "Anacreon, geron ei"?"Regardez done," those ladies said,--"You're getting bald and wrinkled tooWhen summer's roses all are shed,Love 's nullum ite, voyez-vous!"In vain ce brave Anacreon's cry,"Of Love alone my banjo sings"(Erota mounon). "Etiam si,--Eh b'en?" replied the saucy things,--"Go find a maid whose hair is gray,And strike your lyre,--we sha'n't complain;But parce nobis, s'il vous plait,--Voila Adolphe! Voila Eugene!"Ah, jeune Lisette! Ah, belle Fifine!Anacreon's lesson all must learn;O kairos oxiis; Spring is green,But

Rhymes Of An Hour Rhymes Of An Hour

Rhymes Of An Hour
ADDRESS FOR THE OPENING OF THE FIFTH AVENUE THEATRE,NEW YORK, DECEMBER 3, 1873HANG out our banners on the stately towerIt dawns at last--the long-expected hour IThe steep is climbed, the star-lit summit won,The builder's task, the artist's labor done;Before the finished work the herald stands,And asks the verdict of your lips and hands!Shall rosy daybreak make us all forgetThe golden sun that yester-evening set?Fair was the fabric doomed to pass awayEre the last headaches born of New Year's Day;With blasting breath the fierce destroyer cameAnd wrapped the victim in his robes of flame;The pictured sky with redder morning blushed,With scorching streams