Aspirations

I would not always sail
Upon a sunny sea:

I would not always sail
Upon a sunny sea:
The mountain wave, the sounding gale,
Have deeper joys for me.

Let others love to creep
Along the flowery dell:
Be mine upon the craggy steep,
Among the storms to dwell.

The rock, the mist, the foam,
The wonderful, the wild
I feel they form my proper home,
And claim me for their child.

The whirlwind’s rushing wing,
The stern volcano’s voice,
To me an awful rapture bring:
I tremble, and rejoice.

I love thy solemn roar,
Thou deep, eternal sea,
Sounding along from shore to shore
The boundless and the free.

I love the flood’s hoarse song,
The thunder’s lordly mirth,
The midnight wind, that walks along
The hushed and trembling earth;

The mountain, lone and high,
The dark and silent wood,
The desert stretched from sky to sky
In awful solitude.

A presence and a power
In scenes like these I see:
The stillness of a midnight hour
Has eloquence for me.

Then, bursting earth’s control,
My thoughts are all at flood:
I feel the stirrings in my soul
Of an immortal mood.

My energies expand:
My spirit looks abroad;
And, midst the terrible and grand,
Feels nearer to her God.

Let others tamely weigh
The danger and the pain:
I do not shrink the price to pay,
To share the joy and gain.

Henry Francis Lyte

Sea Shore