The lee rail hisses under,
As we double the cape of Lighthouse Hill
Where sea and harbor sunder.
Then here’s to a season of glad unrest!
With an anchor of hope on the seaman's breast,
Till I claim once more from thy savage will
A soul that is fraught with wonder.
Mr. Stork's command of words is admirable, and his expression of life's thoughts, too often expressed tritely, with him take on new light:
No matter how or where, the crucial point
Of each man's life is when he leaves the bay,
Spreads his white sails before the ruffling breeze,
And takes the first plunge of the hollow surge.
Oh, thrill of first adventure! Overhead
Flew pearly cloudlets; on our lee the cliffs,
So formidable once, were fading low;
Beneath, the cloven waves' translucent green
Spring into spray along the dipping stem;
And somewhere out beyond those curling crests
Lay, golden as with promise, the unknown.
To revert again to the theme of "Sea and Bay"—Alden, leaving behind him the home life of the bay, visits France and Italy. He sees the false Paris but later discovers
Like a deep stream that runs through stagnant pools,
The true French people, clean and pure and strong.
And that
Art after all is just a sort of dress
For soul: sometimes too meagre, oftener though
Too rich.
