Poems for the Sea/The Two Teachers
THE TWO TEACHERS.
Earth hath her firesides, where the truant heart
Comes back, to be forgiven, where the soft touch
Of mother, or of sister, lures the boy,
And tames his fierceness, where the unshap'd sound
From infancy's fair lip, doth move the soul
With thrill unspeakable.
But the strong Sea
Beareth no hearth-stone on his giant waves.
He scorns the cadence of the nursery song,
Nor with his erring children leaves a fault
For Love's fond kiss to shrive. The hoarse reproof,
The chronicle of wrecks; the lash of storms,
Are his appliances. No echoing voice
Of Sabbath-bell, across the billowy waste
Calleth the peasant, with his little ones
Up to God's courts; no chant of tuneful choir
Softeneth his pupils, and no fervent prayer
For their misdeeds, from interceding Love
Outlasts the night-watch.
Oft indulgent Earth
Fits her frail child for Death's most fear'd embrace,
By holiest ministries around his bed,
Until her loosening links unclasp and fall,
In scarce perceptible, and calm decline,
Without a murmuring moan. And then she opes
Her matron breast, for his long, dreamless sleep,
And covers him with flowers.
It is not so
With Ocean, in his sterner discipline.
His tender mercies, are the sad, lone plunge
Down to his caves, where scaly monsters gaze
A moment on the guest, with stony eyes,
Then leave him to an unwept sepulchre,
Until the day of doom.
Oh, gentle Earth!
Gird thy son well, ere thou dost cast him forth
To Ocean's iron rule. Give him the shield
Of God's true fear, —that tho' he turn away
From charities of home, and hallow'd bell
Warning to Church, and turf-bound, tear-wet tomb,
It may be well with him.
