The Sea

Out from the shore, a silver sail, Gliding, gliding far and wide; Gone is the bark;—the sea is pale, The sea is cold and never cried. No harborage here for the weary head— The land is lost in the ocean’s might; You think you’re safe from the thoughts that tread On the heart’s calm as the sea’s bright night.

And yet the brave heart knows the toil— The strength it gains from the deep blue sea; Each wave a thought, each ripple a moil, Each gust of wind a thought set free.

• Isabella Valancy Crawford