THE SEA WIND

By Sara Teasdale

I AM a pool in a peaceful place,

I greet the great sky face to face,

I know the stars and the stately moon

And the wind that runs with rippling shoon —

But why does it always bring to me

The far-off, beautiful sound of the sea?

The marsh-grass weaves me a wall of green,

But the wind comes whispering in between,

In the dead of night when the sky is deep

The wind comes waking me out of sleep —

Why does it always bring to me

The far-off, terrible call of the sea?