In their own tasks all their powers pouring,
In the rustling night-air came the answer:
And the sea its long moon-silver'd roll;
Weary of myself, and sick of asking
Calm me, ah, compose me to the end!
Over the lit sea's unquiet way,
For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting
Undistracted by the sights they see,
In what state God's other works may be,
"And with joy the stars perform their shining,
A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear:
Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea.
What I am, and what I ought to be,
These attain the mighty life you see."
Feel my soul becoming vast like you!"
"Unaffrighted by the silence round them,
All the fever of some differing soul.
Who finds himself, loses his misery!"
And a look of passionate desire
At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me
These demand not that the things without them
Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you,
"Bounded by themselves, and unregardful
Yield them love, amusement, sympathy.
O'er the sea and to the stars I send:
O air-born voice! long since, severely clear,
On my heart your mighty charm renew;
"Ah, once more," I cried, "ye stars, ye waters,
"Wouldst thou be as these are? Live as they.
"Resolve to be thyself; and know that he,
"Ye who from my childhood up have calm'd me,
From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven,