The Poetry Corner

The Voice Of Many Waters.

By Kate Seymour Maclean

Oh Sea, that with infinite sadness, and infinite yearning Liftest thy crystal forehead toward the unpitying stars,-- Evermore ebbing and flowing, and evermore returning Over thy fathomless depths, and treacherous island bars:-- Oh thou complaining sea, that fillest the wide void spaces Of the blue nebulous air with thy perpetual moan, Day and night, day and night, out of thy desolate places-- Tell me thy terrible secret, oh Sea! what hast thou done. Sometimes in the merry mornings, with the sunshine's golden wonder Glancing along thy cheek, unwrinkled of any wind, Thou seemest to be at peace, stifling thy great heart under A face of absolute calm,--with danger and death behind! But I hear thy voice at midnight, smiting the awful silence With the long suspiration of thy pain suppressed; And all the blue lagoons, and all the listening islands Shuddering have heard, and locked thy secret in their breast! Oh Sea! thou art like my heart, full of infinite sadness and pity,-- Of endless doubt and endeavour, of sorrowful question and strife, Like some unlighted fortress within a beleagured city, Holding within and hiding the mystery of life.