Man in Nature

Climbing up the hillside beneath the summer stars I listen to the murmur of the drowsy ebbing sea; The newly-risen moon has loosed her silver zone On the undulating waters where the ships are sailing free. O moon, and O stars, and O drowsy summer sea. Drawing thy tide from the city up the bay, I know how you will look and what your bounds must be, When we and our sons have forever passed away. You shall not change, but a nobler race of men Shall walk beneath the stars and wander by the shore; I cannot guess their glory, but I think the sky and sea Will bring to them more gladness than they brought to us of yore.

Collection: 
English
William Roscoe Thayer

More from Poet

The Last Hunt

Oh, it ’s twenty gallant gentlemen Rode out to hunt the deer, With mirth upon the silver horn And gleam upon the spear; They galloped through the meadow-grass, They sought the forest’s gloom, And loudest rang Sir Morven’s laugh, And lightest tost his plume. There ’s no delight by day...
The Violin's Complaint

Honest stradivari made men: With the gift of love he blest me; Once, delight, a master played me, Love awoke when he caressed me! Oh the deep, ecstatic burning! Oh the secrets low and tender! Oh the passion and the yearning At our love’s complete surrender! Heartless men, so long to hide me With...
Man in Nature

Climbing up the hillside beneath the summer stars I listen to the murmur of the drowsy ebbing sea; The newly-risen moon has loosed her silver zone On the undulating waters where the ships are sailing free. O moon, and O stars, and O drowsy summer sea. Drawing thy tide from the city up the...
The Last Hunt

Oh, it ’s twenty gallant gentlemen Rode out to hunt the deer, With mirth upon the silver horn And gleam upon the spear; They galloped through the meadow-grass, They sought the forest’s gloom, And loudest rang Sir Moven’s laugh, And lightest tost his plume, There ’s no delight by day...