If I must die, The earth is inarticulate to sing The dirge I crave: The sorrow of the murmur-laden wave, The sea-born wind complaining ’neath the sky, And round my head the waters’ silver ring. If I must live, And feel the ashes of oblivion About my soul, Let life be fearful, let me feel the whole, Despair, and face the sunrise—if I grieve Let it but be the tarrying of the sun.
If I must die, The earth is inarticulate to sing The dirge I crave: The sorrow of the murmur-laden wave, The sea-born wind complaining ’neath the sky, And round my head the waters’ silver ring. If I must live, And feel the ashes of oblivion About my soul, Let life be fearful, let me feel the...
This is the song of the wave! The mighty one! Child of the soul of silence, beating the air to sound. White as a live terror, as a drawn sword, This is the wave! This is the song of the wave, the white-maned steed of the Tempest, Whose veins are swollen with life, In whose flanks...
