The Swimmer
Tonight the ocean calls,
The stars respond, wide-scattered through the skies;
Swift through the cool of curling wave he hies,
Who swims far out, nor sees the shore receding—
Only his strength, his long bold measures heeding.
Proud in his power, strong,
From hateful touch of hands that haunt him, free
He plunges forward through dark wastes of sea,
Passionate in the careless joy of roaming
Through billowed gulfs, forgetful of his homing.
Tranced in the summer night,
Lying far out on the high-breasted deep,
He dreams alone. Lo! In illumined sleep,
White Naiads gleam in dim sea-groves and hollows,
Under the tide-drawn heaving path he follows.
Until the stars slip down,
And to far shores the pale night drifts away;
Then he turns back to meet the break of day,
Through the broad surges in blind rapture leaping,
Until he feels the sand and the foam creeping.