Wind and Sea.
Bayard Taylor.
The sea is a jovial comrade,
He laughs wherever he goes;
His merriment shines in the dimpling lines
That wrinkle his hale repose;
He lays himself down at the feet of the sun,
And shakes all over with glee;
And the broad-backed billows fall faint on the shore
In the mirth of the mighty sea.
But the wind is sad and restless,
And cursed with an inward pain;
You may hark as you will by valley or hill,
But you hear him still complain.
He wails on the barren mountains,
And shrieks on the watery sea;
He sobs in the cedar and moans in the pine,
And quakes through the aspen tree.
Welcome are both their voices;
And I know not which is best,
The laughter that slips from ocean’s lips,
Or the comfortless wind’s unrest.
There’s a pang in all rejoicing,
A joy in the heart of pain;
And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens,
Are singing the self-same strain.