Shadows (Howe)/The Sea Voice
P from the harbor side,Over the city's midmost hush of night,Swells, like a flooding tide,The insistent voice of some great ship,Deep-throated, as a man of might,Calling, perchance, new greeting to the landNow safe at hand;Or it may be with bugle at her lip,Seaward she flings the first far-reaching cryOf that vast speech of hers, wherebyShe sounds her way from strand to strand,Through ocean's fog and storm and mystery.
THE SEA VOICE
P from the harbor side,Over the city's midmost hush of night,Swells, like a flooding tide,The insistent voice of some great ship,Deep-throated, as a man of might,Calling, perchance, new greeting to the landNow safe at hand;Or it may be with bugle at her lip,Seaward she flings the first far-reaching cryOf that vast speech of hers, wherebyShe sounds her way from strand to strand,Through ocean's fog and storm and mystery.Housed safe ashore, deep downBeneath the mountain clamor of the town,Never by day comes clear to meThat rough old voice of the sea.Only in chance-caught silences men hear,As if by night, the ages' tale,—All are but dwellers by a shore,
Mariners waiting their command to sailForth on the uncharted sea each must explore,So strange a sea, so near.