Bryan W. Procter. 1787-1874.
The sea! the sea! the open sea!
The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
The Sea.
I 'm on the sea! I 'm on the sea!
I am where I would ever be,
With the blue above and the blue below,
And silence wheresoe'er I go.
The Sea.
I never was on the dull, tame shore,
But I loved the great sea more and more.
The Sea.
Touch us gently, Time![538:2]
Let us glide adown thy stream
Gently,—as we sometimes glide
Through a quiet dream.
Touch us gently, Time.
Footnotes
[538:2] See Crabbe, page 445.
[539]