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From the strong will, and the endeavor

That for ever Wrestles with the tides of fate; From the wreck of hopes far-scattered,

Tempest-shattered, Floating waste and desolate ;

Ever drifting, drifting, drifting

On the shifting
Currents of the restless heart;
Till at length in books recorded,

They, like hoarded
Household words, no more depart.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

Look what immortal floods the sunset pours Upon us–Mark! how still (as though in

dreams Bound) the once wild and terrible ocean

seems! How silent are the winds! no billow roars; But all is tranquil as Elysian shores. The silver margin which aye runneth round The moon-enchanted sea, hath here no sound; Even Echo speaks not on these radiant moors ! What! is the giant of the ocean dead, Whose strength was all unmatched beneath

the sun ? No: he reposes ! Now his toils are done; More quiet than the babbling brooks is he. So mightiest powers by deepest calms are fed, And sleep, how oft, in things that gentlest be!

BARRY CORNWALL.

GULF-WEED.

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III.

IV.

There, with its waving blade of green, Thou call'st along the sand, and haunt'st the The sea-flag streams through the silent water,

And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen surge, Restless and sad; as if, in strange accord

To blush, like a banner bathed in slaughter. With the motion and the roar

There, with a light and easy motion, Of waves that drive to shore,

The fan-coral sweeps through the clear, deep One spirit did ye urge

sea; The Mystery—the Word:

And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean
Are bending like corn on the upland lea.
And life, in rare and beautiful forms,

Is sporting amid those bowers of stone,
Of thousands thou both sepulchre and pall, And is safe, when the wrathful spirit of storms
Old Ocean, art! A requiem o'er the dead Has made the top of the wave his own.
From out thy gloomy cells

And when the ship from his fury flies, A tale of mourning tells

Where the myriad voices of ocean roar, Tells of man's woe and fall,

When the wind-god frowns in the marky His sinless glory fled.

skies, And demons are waiting the wreck on shore;

Then, far below, in the peaceful sea, Then turn thee, little bird, and take thy flight Where the waters murmur tranquilly,

The purple mullet and gold-fish rove Where the complaining sea shall sadness

Through the bending twigs of the coral grove. bring

JAMES GATES PERCITAL Thy spirit never more.

Come, quit with me the shore
For gladness, and the light
Where birds of summer sing.

HAMPTON BEACH.

RICHARD HENRY DANA.

The sunlight glitters keen and bright,

Where, miles away,

Lies stretching to my dazzled sight
THE CORAL GROVE.

A luminous belt, a misty light,

Beyond the dark pine bluffs and wastes of Deep in the wave is a coral grove,

sandy gray. Where the purple mullet and gold-fish rove; Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of

The tremulous shadow of the sea ! blue

Against its ground That never are wet with falling dew,

Of silvery light, rock, hill, and tree, But in bright and changeful beauty shine

Still as a picture, clear and free, Far down in the green and glassy brine. The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift, With varying outline mark the coast for

miles around. And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow; From coral rocks the sea-plants lift Their boughs, where the tides and billows On-on-we tread with loose-flung rein flow;

Our seaward way, The water is calm and still below,

Through dark-green fields and blossoming For the winds and waves are absent there,

grain, And the sands are bright as the stars that Where the wild brier-rose skirts the lane, glow

And bends above our heads the flowering, In the motionless fields of upper air.

locust spray.

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Ha! like a kind hand on my brow

I sit alone; in foam and spray
Comes this fresh breeze,

Wave after wave
Cooling its dull and feverish glow,

Breaks on the rocks which, stern and gray, While through my being seems to flow Beneath like fallen Titans lay, The breath of a new life—the healing of the Or murmurs hoarse and strong through mossy seas!

cleft and cave.

Now rest we, where this grassy mound

What heed I of the dusty land
His feet hath set

And noisy town?

I see the mighty deep expand
In the great waters, which have bound
His granite ankles greenly round

From its white line of glimmering sand With long and tangled moss, and weeds with To where the blue of heaven on bluer waves

shuts down! cool spray wet.

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And all we shrink from now may seem

No new revealing-
Familiar as our childhood's stream,

TO SENECA LAKE.
Or pleasant memory of a dream,
The loved and cherished Past upon the new On thy fair bosom, silver lake,
life stealing.

The wild swan spreads his snowy sail,
And round his breast the ripples break,

As down he bears before the gale.
Serene and mild, the untried light

May have its dawning;
And, as in Summer's northern light On thy fair bosom, waveless stream,
The evening and the dawn unite,

The dipping paddle echoes far, The sunset hues of Time blend with the soul's And flashes in the moonlight gleam, new morning.

And bright reflects the polar star.

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