THE WIND AND THE SEA.
BY BAYARD TAYLOR.
The Sea is a jovial comrade;
He laughs, wherever he goes,
And the 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 mountain;
Shrieks on the wintry sea;
Sobs in the cedar and moans in the pine,
And shivers all over the aspen tree.
Welcome are both their voices,
And I know not which is best,
The laughter that slips
From the 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.