FULL TIDE

Sea-scents, wild-rose scents,

Bay and barberry too,

Drench the wind, the Maine wind,

That gulls are dipping thro,

With soft hints, sweet hints,

With lull, lure and desire;

With memory-wafts and mysteries,

And all the ineffable histories

Made when the sea and land meet,

And the sun lends nuptial fire.

Sea-foam, and dream-foam,

And which is which, who knows,

When all day long the heart goes out

To every wave that blows,

That blossoms on the bright tide,

Then sheds a shimmering crest

And yields its tossing place to one

Whose blooming is as quickly done —

For beauty is ever swift — begot

Of rapture and unrest.

Sea-deeps, and soul-deeps,

And where shall faith be found

If not within the heart's beat

Or in the surging sound

Of the sea, which is the earth's heart,

Beating with tireless might;

Beating — tho but a tragedy

Life seems on every land and sea;

Beating to bring all breath, somehow,

Out of despair's blight.