Seas that foam where the porpoise roam
And the spouting whale rolls high—
Seas that use in the sunset hues
Till all is a blended sky.
Seas that reek with the golden streak
And the flash of phosphor fire—
Seas that glance in a moonlit dance
With feet that never tire.
Seas that melt in the mist-hung belt
When sky and waters close—
Seas that meet the day’s retreat,
Amber and gold and rose.
Purple seas and garnet seas, emerald seas and blue,
Foaming seas and frothing seas spraying rainbow dew:
Laughing seas and chaffing seas, gay in the morning light,
Endless seas and bendless seas ayawn in the starless night.
GOD’S ACRE
I’m drivin’ backward to the farm—
The harvest day is done,
And I’m passing by God’s Acre
At the setting o’ the Sun:
And I slow the homing horses—
For I must soliloquize
On that white crop standin’ silent
Against the crimson skies.
I guess there’s tares aplenty—
And I guess there’s lots o’ chaff,
And I guess there’s many stories that
Ed make a feller laugh.
And I guess there’s mebbe stories
Ed make a feller weep,
And the Angels kind o’ whisper
As around the stones they creep.
Well, the Lord He up and planted—
And the Harvest’s come to head;
(And He shore is most particular
When all is done and said).
But I reckon when it’s sifted,
And the Crop is in the bin,
It’ll be a durned hard sinner
As the Lord ain’t gathered in.