Mingled the waters with the land
Where he was seen no more :
O stern word–Nevermore!

Full short his journey was; no dust Of earth unto his sandals clave; The weary weight that old men must, He bore not to the grave. He seemed a cherub who had lost his way And wandered hither, so his stay With us was short, and 'twas most meet That he should be no delver in earth's clod Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet To stand before his God : O blest word-Evermore!



The sea is lonely, the sea is dreary,
The sea is restless and uneasy ;
Thou seekest quiet, thou art weary,
Wandering thou knowest not whither ;-
Our little isle is green and breezy,
Come and rest thee! O come hither;
Come to this peaceful home of ours,

Where evermore
The low west-wind creeps panting up the shore
To be at rest among the flowers ;
Full of rest, the green moss lifts,

As the dark waves of the sea Draw in and out of rocky rifts,

Calling solemnly to thee With voices deep and hollow,

66 To the shore Follow ! O, follow ! To be at rest forevermore!

Forevermore !”

Look how the gray old Ocean
From the depth of his heart rejoices,
Heaving with a gentle motion,
When he hears our restful voices;
List how he sings in an under-tone,
Chiming with our melody;
And all sweet sounds of earth and air
Melt into one low voice alone,
That murmurs over the weary sea,
And seems to sing from everywhere,-
“Here mayst thou harbor peacefully,
Here mayst thou rest from the aching oar;

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Turn thy curvéd prow ashore,
And in our green isle rest forevermore !

Forevermore !”
And Echo half wakes in the wooded hill,

And, to her heart so calm and deep,

Murmurs over in her sleep,
Doubtfully pausing and murmuring still,
“ Evermore!"

Thus, on Life's weary sea,
Heareth the marinere
Voices sweet, from far and near,
Ever singing low and clear,
Ever singing longingly.

Is it not better here to be,
Than to be toiling late and soon?
In the dreary night to see
Nothing but the blood-red moon
Go up and down into the sea;
Or, in the loneliness of day,

To see the still seals only
Solemnly lift their faces gray,

Making it yet more lonely?
Is it not better, than to hear
Only the sliding of the wave
Beneath the plank, and feel so near
A cold and lonely grave,
A restless grave, where thou shalt lie
Even in death unquietly?
Look down beneath thy wave-worn bark,

Lean over the side and see
The leaden eye of the sidelong shark

Upturnéd patiently,
Ever waiting there for thee :
Look down and see those shapeless forms,

Which ever keep their dreamless sleep
Far down within the gloomy deep,

And only stir themselves in storms,
Rising like islands from beneath,
And snorting through the angry spray,
As the frail vessel perisheth
In the whirls of their unwieldy play ;

Look down ! Look down !
Upon the seaweed, slimy and dark,
That waves its arms so lank and brown,

Beckoning for thee!
Look down beneath thy wave-worn bark
Into the cold depth of the sea !
Look down! Look down!

Thus, on Life's lonely sea,
Heareth the marinere
Voices sad, from far and near,
Ever singing full of fear,
Ever singing drearfully.

Here all is pleasant as a dream;
The wind scarce shaketh down the dew,
The green grass floweth like a stream

Into the ocean's blue ;

Listen! 0, listen !
Here is a gush of many streams,


many birds, And every wish and longing seems Lulled to a numbered flow of words,

Listen! 0, listen ! Here ever hum the golden bees Underneath full-blossomed trees, At once with glowing fruit and flowers crowned ;The sand is so smooth, the yellow sand, That thy keel will not grate as it touches the land; All around with a slumberous sound, The singing waves slide up the strand, And there, where the smooth, wet pebbles be, The waters gurgle longingly,

As if they fain would seek the shore,
To be at rest from the ceaseless roar,
To be at rest forevermore, -

Thus, on Life’s gloomy sea,
Heareth the marinere
Voices sweet, from far and near,
Ever singing in his ear,

“ Here is rest and peace for thee ! ” NANTASKET, July, 1840.

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