The Ground Swell

Though the moon in silver silence, 
Floods the highlands and the islands
      With a peace that cannot jar, 
On the gates of Narragansett, 
Storm-advanced to the onset,
      Plunge the billows from afar.

Heavily the long swell rages 
On the ledges, and the sedges
      Scattered, strow the foamy beach; 
Many a garden fair it crosses 
Of bright mosses, which it tosses
      Up to human eye and reach.

Many a beauty have the waters
Pluck'd and brought us, aye and taught us
      Of a wealth we never knew, 
Which, in granite earthquake-chasm'd 
Deep embosomed, sweetly blossomed
      To the dark concealing blue;

Till an unseen tempest, urging 
The wild surging, by the scourging
      Of its wind-lash, cast them here, 
To make glad, and blest moreover, 
Beauty's lover, though they suffer
      Martyr-pangs to give him cheer.

When a heart or spirit queenly 
Most serenely foldeth inly
      The white calm of holy thought, 
Little are our souls aware of 
Any jar of storms afar off,
      From whose tramp are throbbings caught.

O, divine deeds, in the fitness
Of completeness, pour their sweetness
      Round our gladdened souls' career; 
And we bless the new revealing, 
Never feeling the long reeling
      Of the pangs that bore it here.

Deepest thoughts of love's devotion 
Heave like ocean, with a motion
      Grand from pulsings of a storm; 
All the thrills which Poets lend us, 
All the splendors valor renders,
      With heart's agony are warm.

Finest feelings which we cherish 
Nor let perish, farthest flourish
      From the taint of vulgar reach; 
And the woes that ruin past them 
As to blast them, only cast them
      Forth like sea-flowers on the beach.