When the eyes grow solemn
Laughter fades away,
Nature of her mighty childhood
Recollects the Titan play;
Woodlands touched by sunlight
Where the elves abode,
Giant meetings, Titan greetings,
Fancies of a youthful God.
These are coming on thee
In thy secret thought;
God remembers in thy bosom
All the wonders that He wrought.
EVENING
A golden evening, when the thoughtful sun
Rejects its usual pomp in going, trees
That bend down to their green companion
And fruitful mother, vaguely whispering—these
And a wide silent sea. Such hour is nearest God,
Like rich old age when the long ways have all been trod.
Sri Aurobindo Ghose.
THE SEA AT NIGHT
The grey sea creeps half-visible, half-hushed,
And grasps with its innumerable hands
These silent walls. I see beyond a rough
Glimmering infinity, I feel the wash
And hear the sibilation of the waves
That whisper to each other as they push
To shoreward side by side—long lines and dim
Of movement flecked with quivering spots of foam,
The quiet welter of a shifting world.
Sri Aurobindo Ghose.