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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