Shores

You bid me reach upon the shores My feet, bare to what watches pass. The seas with gentle dreams and roars— Where clamors intermingle through grass.

Upon all you sail; each strand does greet The sun that draws wide bolts, undone still, But what of the waves that break meet parts, sweet, The tide! my friend, that calls happy till.

Fear not this foam of angry seas, Fear not the crows that voice a fight! Reach in and touch the gliding keys, To find it all; what brings breath of light.

• Ralph Waldo Emerson