DAILY PHOTO: Ao Nang Sunset
1

On this wondrous sea
Sailing silently,
Ho! Pilot, ho!
Knowest thou the shore
Where no breakers roar --
Where the storm is o'er?
In the peaceful west
Many the sails at rest --
The anchors fast --
Thither I pilot thee --
Land Ho! Eternity!
Ashore at last!
Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.
O, well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!
And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!
Break, break, break
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
The world below the brine,
Forests at the bottom of the sea,
the branches and leaves,
Sea-lettuce, vast lichens, strange flowers
and seeds, the thick tangle, openings,
and pink turf,
Different colors, pale gray and green,
purple, white, and gold, the play of light
through the water,
Dumb swimmers there among the rocks,
coral, gluten, grass, rushes, and the
aliment of the swimmers,
Sluggish existences grazing there suspended,
or slowly crawling close to the bottom,
The sperm-whale at the surface blowing air
and spray, or disporting with his flukes,
The leaden-eyed shark, the walrus, the
turtle, the hairy sea-leopard, and the
sting-ray,
Passions there, wars, pursuits, tribes,
sight in those ocean-depths, breathing
that thick-breathing air, as many do,
The change thence to the sight here,
and to the subtle air breathed by beings
like us who walk this sphere,
The change onward from ours to that of
beings who walk other spheres.