SEA-VOICES.

Otago Witness, Issue 2689, 27 September 1905, Page 63

SEA-VOICES.

Where the surf with miles on miles of broken speech Fills the beach. With a spirit-voice's murmuring that sings Unknown things ; Where the lighthouse on the wave-beat cliff afar Seems a star, Or a planet, a new wonder-bearing earth Sprung to birth, Still the music and the motion of the feet Rhythmic beat, Still we heaT it, and we see the shaded glance Where they dance. In the shadow and the shelter of the pier, v \ We are here ; I We may watch the dini-edge-d foaming mile *Tm mile, For a while; May fc-rget the busy murmur, laugh, and jest. And the rest, N Whilst Orion, half in sea and half in sky, Flashes high. Will the dunes be ever razed and swept away ' Some far day? Will the beach be hemmed and bordered by lamp-starred Promenade ? Will this wooden pier, shell-crusted, some far morn Be up-torn, And a sturdier stretch to seaward, where are strewn Star and moon? Will the quietness and calmness and delight Of this night Yield to blaring and fan-faring and to sonj* Heard nightlong? We may think such things will be, you and I, By-and-bye, But will take the sweetness scattered now like dew On us two. How interpret the soft whispers, frrofeen speech, Of the beach? Can we understand the murmurs of the pines* Broken lines? There's the glamour of the stars without a moon (.Rising- soon) ; There's the thrilling of the east wind, fresh and keen In star-sheen: How interpret all the tenderness that starts From our hearts? I Not in words and not in signs can we reveal i What we feel: ■ Not in words the sea and wind can tell the J change, Wild -and strange, They have known since all the land where now we tread La 3 as dead: Not a human habitation; only sand Far inland, Drifting dunes, with roots and shells by sea waves swung, On them flung : Cry of bird, the only sound on sea headi then Bare of men, — Till the swarthy Maori coming, with his yell, Broke the spell. Cold the night is; we can almost think we two, I and you, Are the lonely world-lost dwellers 'mid the dunes And sea-moons, — For she rises ; and a path from the Old World Lies tinfurled, — Yes, a path of gold that leads unnumbered feet Here, my sweet! With your cheek to mine, oh, dear one, whilst sea aiiDews your hair, Wo will quite forget the rhythm and the , glance i Of the dance; I We will think the faint-borne tones that rise and fall From the hall Are a wind and ocean nielody that boars Us through years; Through the years when changes great v/ill "blot from .sight Our delight, Our seclusion and repose and quiet ways, And glad days. But ourselves— lean warm towards me, lest I dread You lie dead ; — But ourselves shall peacefal sleep, nor see that change, New and strange. — Johannes C. Anderseu. New Brighton, September, 190 i (