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24 SEA LONGING [[dividing line]] A thousand miles beyond this sun-steeped wall Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand, The ebbing tide forsakes the listless land With the old murmur, long and musical; The windy waves mount up, and curve, and fall, And round the rocks the foam blows up like snow,- Tho' I am inland far, I hear and know, For I was born the sea's eternal thrall. I would that I were there, and over me The cold insistence of the tide would roll, Quenching this burning thing men call the soul,- Then with the ebbing I should drift and be Less than the smallest shell along the shoal, Less than the sea gulls calling to the sea. – Sara Teasdale "Life has loveliness to sell, Music like a curve of gold, Scent of pine trees in the rain, Eyes that love you, arms that hold, And for your spirit's still delight, Holy-thoughts that star the night. Life has loveliness to sell. All beautiful and splendid things; Blue waves whitened on a cliff, Soaring fire that sways, and rings, And children's faces looking up, Holding wonder like a cup. Spend all you have for loveliness, And never count the cost; For one white ringing hour of peace Count many a year of strife well lost, And for a breath of ecstasy, Give all you have been, or could be. – Sara Teasdale