all the seas it watches roll
Find their border fixed beyond them,
        and a worldwide shore’s control: 
These whereby we stand no shore
        beyond us limits:  these are free. 
Gazing hence, we see the water
        that grows iron round the Pole,
From the shore that hath no shore
        beyond it set in all the sea.

Sail on sail along the sea-line
        fades and flashes; here on land
Flash and fade the wheeling wings
        on wings of mews that plunge and scream. 
Hour on hour along the line
        of life and time’s evasive strand
Shines and darkens, wanes and waxes,
        slays and dies:  and scarce they seem
More than motes that thronged and trembled
        in the brief noon’s breath and beam. 
Some with crying and wailing, some
        with notes like sound of bells that toll,
Some with sighing and laughing, some
        with words that blessed and made us whole,
Passed, and left us, and we know not
        what they were, nor what were we. 
Would we know, being mortal?  Never
        breath of answering whisper stole
From the shore that hath no shore
        beyond it set in all the sea.

Shadows, would we question darkness? 
        Ere our eyes and brows be fanned
Round with airs of twilight, washed
        with dews from sleep’s eternal stream,
Would we know sleep’s guarded secret? 
        Ere the fire consume the brand,
Would it know if yet its ashes
        may requicken? yet we deem
Surely man may know, or ever
        night unyoke her starry team,
What the dawn shall be, or if
        the dawn shall be not, yea, the scroll
Would we read of sleep’s dark scripture,
        pledge of peace or doom of dole. 
Ah, but here man’s heart leaps, yearning
        toward the gloom with venturous glee,
Though his pilot eye behold
        nor bay nor harbour, rock nor shoal,
From the shore that hath no shore
        beyond it set in all the sea.

Friend, who knows if death indeed
        have life or life have death for goal? 
Day nor night can tell us, nor
        may seas declare nor skies unroll
What has been from everlasting,
        or if aught shall always be. 
Silence answering only strikes
        response reverberate on the soul
From the shore that hath no shore
        beyond it set in all the sea.

A NEW-YEAR ODE

TO VICTOR HUGO

I.

Twice twelve times have the springs of years refilled
  Their fountains from the river-head of time
Since by the green sea’s marge, ere autumn chilled
  Waters and woods with sense of changing clime,
A great light rose upon my soul, and thrilled
  My spirit of sense with sense of spheres