SHIPS AT SEA. I have waited on the piers, Gazing for them down the bay, Your proud ships come home from sea, So I never quite despair, Nor let hope nor courage fail; That is lost-that is lost! Once when I was pure and young, Or a wrinkle crossed my brow, And though come my ships from sea, They can bring no heart to me Evermore-evermore. 29 Barry Gray. WITH THE MOUNTAINS. frontier strength ye stand your ground, With grand content ye circle round, Tumultuous silence for all sound, Ye distant nursery of rills, Monadnock, and the Peterboro' hills; Sailing through rain and sleet, Through winter's cold and summer's heat; Not skulking close to land, With cargo contraband ; For they who sent a venture out by ye Have set the sun to see Their honesty. Ships of the line, each one, Ye to the westward run, Under a press of sail, With weight of metal all untold; I seem to feel ye, in my firm seat here Immeasurable depth of hold, And breadth of beam, and length of running gear. Methinks ye take luxurious pleasure In your novel western leisure; THE MOUNTAINS. 31 For ye lie at your length, An unappropriated strength, Unhewn primeval timber For knees so stiff, for masts so limber; Fit for the stanchions of a world Which through the seas of space is hurled. While we enjoy a lingering ray, Edged with silver and with gold, Where still a few rays slant, That even heaven seems extravagant. On the earth's edge mountains and trees Stand as they were on air graven, Or as the vessels in a haven Await the morning breeze. I fancy even Through your defiles windeth the way to heaven; And yonder still, in spite of history's page, Linger the golden and the silver age; Upon the laboring gale The news of future centuries is brought, And of new dynasties of thought, From your remotest vale. But special I remember thee, A remnant of the sky, Seen through the clearing or the gorge, Or from the windows of the forge, Doth leaven all it passes by. Nothing is true, But stands 'tween me and you, Thou western pioneer, Who know'st not shame nor fear, Under the eaves of heaven, And can'st expand thee there, And breathe enough of air; Upholding heaven, holding down earth, Thy pastime from thy birth, Not steadied by the one, nor leaning on the other; May I approve myself thy worthy brother! H. D. Thoreau. THALATTA. HALATTA! Thalatta! TH I greet thee, thou Ocean eternal ! I give thee ten thousand times greeting, With heart all exulting, As, ages since, hailed thee Those ten thousand Greek hearts, Fate-conquering, home-yearning, World-renowned Greek hearts. THALATTA. The billows were rolling, Were rolling and roaring, The sun poured downward incessant, Affrighted, the flocks of the sea mews Fluttered away, loud screaming ; 33 The steeds were stamping, the shields were clanging, Thou Ocean eternal, I greet thee! Like the tongue of my home is the dash of thy waters! Like dreams of my childhood now sparkle before me Of the trifles I loved in the days of my boyhood, Of the gold fish, the pearls, and gay sea-shells, Below in thy houses of crystal! Oh! how have I languished, A-weary in exile! Like a poor faded flower shut up in an herbal 'Tis as if I had sat through the winter A sick man shut up in my chamber, |