Beneath thee is smiling the peacefullest stillness,
The tremulous swell of the slumberous sea;
Now silvered o’er by the swimming moonshine;
Now golden and red in the light of the west.
Youth, O what is this silken quiet;
What is the smile of the friendly moonlight—
The purple and gold of the evening sun,
To him whom the feeling of bondage oppresses?
Now streamest thou wild
As thy heart may prompt!