28.10.2007, 13:06
Bryan Waller Procter
1790 - 1874
THE SEA IN CALM.
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.
1790 - 1874
THE SEA IN CALM.
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.