The Belfry of Bruges and Other Poems/Seaweed

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

For works with similar titles, see Seaweed.

SONGS.

SEAWEED.

---

When descends on the AtlanticThe giganticStorm-wind of the equinox,Landward in his wrath he scourgesThe toiling surges,Laden with seaweed from the rocks:

From Bermuda's reefs; from edgesOf sunken ledges,In some far-off, bright Azore;From Bahama, and the dashing,Silver-flashingSurges of San Salvador;

From the tumbling surf, that buriesThe Orkneyan skerries,Answering the hoarse Hebrides;And from wrecks of ships, and driftingSpars, upliftingOn the desolate, rainy seas;—

Ever drifting, drifting, driftingOn the shiftingCurrents of the restless main;Till in sheltered coves, and reachesOf sandy beaches,All have found repose again.

So when storms of wild emotionStrike the oceanOf the poet's soul, ere longFrom each cave and rocky fastness,In its vastness,Floats some fragment of a song:

From the far-off isles enchanted,Heaven has plantedWith the golden fruit of Truth;From the flashing surf, whose visionGleams ElysianIn the tropic clime of Youth;

From the strong Will, and the EndeavourThat foreverWrestles with the tides of Fate;From the wreck of Hopes far-scattered,Tempest-shattered,Floating waste and desolate;—

Ever drifting, drifting, driftingOn the shiftingCurrents of the restless heart;Till at length in books recorded,They, like hoardedHousehold words, no more depart.