Ballade of the Song of the Sea-Wind
What is the song the sea-wind sings—
The old, old song it singeth for aye?
When abroad it stretcheth its mighty wings
And driveth the white clouds far away,—
What is the song it sings to-day?
From fire and tumult the white world came,
Where all was a mist of driven spray
And the whirling fragments of a frame!
What is the song the sea-wind sings—
The old, old song it singeth for aye?
It seems to breathe a thousand things
Ere the world grew sad and old and grey—
Of the dear gods banished far astray—
Of strange wild rumours of joy and shame!
The Earth is old, so old, To-day—
Blind and halt and weary and lame.
What is the song the sea-wind sings—
The old, old song it singeth for aye?
Like a trumpet blast its voice out-rings,
The world spins down the darksome way!
It crieth aloud in wild dismay,
The Earth that from fire and tumult came
Draws swift to her weary end To-day,
Her fires are fusing for that last Flame!
Envoy.
What singeth the sea-wind thus for aye—
From fire and tumult the white world came!
What is the sea-wind’s cry To-day—
Her central fires make one vast flame!
William Sharp.