OCEANUS LOQUITUR.

Wellington Independent, Volume XXII, Issue 2604, 30 November 1867, Page 6

OCEANUS LOQUITUR.

I leap tlie gray cliff's firm set foot, And o'er my boulders tumble, I break upon the pebbled shore With clamor, crash, and rumble. And softly, softly, back again I steal, with cool caresses To coral cave, beneath the wave, Where bloom my dark sea tresses. I roll by headland, point, and bluff, And 'neath their shadows gliding, Within the cool grots chambered sides, Hick treasures deeply hiding. And rolling, rolling, on I roll, To meet my river daughters, For earth draws nil her silver streams From off my (lashing waters. And when the quiet moonlight hours Fold mortals deep in slumbers, I talk in wild majestic tones, And tell o'er mystic numbers. And rolling, rolling, on I roll By listening cr.-ig and mountain, By shingled beach, and sandy reach, Where seaward falls the fountain. When round the sunken bark I move, I chant me solemn dirges, And fill the shells I roll to shore, With sounds of distant surges. And rolling, rolling, on I roll, My calms are ever fleeting, For somewhere round my utmost bounds My pulse is wildly beating. And where the deep wide-mouthed caves Brood darkling o'er my waters, I fling myself within their gloom With faith that never falters. And echoing, echoing, round I go, Through fretted roof and rafter, Intoning cell, and tinted sholl, With sounds of silver laughter. Then issuing, issuing, out I come, The far-off depths are calling, And lingering leave the crystal drops, On peai'l and seaweed falling. And rolling, rolling, on I roll, My world-old story singing, Far through the star hung vault of God ily liquid praises ringing. And man who calls me false of mood, His hand in wrath upraising, Who fashions god 3 within his heart, And gives them endless praising. Come, stand upon my splintered crag 3, Whero midnight folds in slumbers, " Forget not Grod," my surges hymn, In wild majestic numbers. Eondi, October 21 ]