Sea Music

waters white with human sacrifice,
O waves that rear your bosoms in the sun,
Proud is your plastic music, O white waves—
White breasts, white hips, white shoulders, flowing hair,
Your voice forever calling —O white waves,
The white line of your shore is filled with spirits
That rise from out the mist on moonlit nights;
O white waves calling ever under the moon,
And luring to an unknown sacrifice.
White are the bones that lie beneath the surface,
Whiter than sands of moonlight on the shore;
In the tumultuous life of moving waters
The secret of the world is hidden away,
And even now the waters dim are calling,
And luring to an unknown sacrifice;
The air is still and quiet, as with vision,
But now and then a foot moves in the waves,
The white foot of a goddess; and the voice
Of ancient waters brooding over the world
Laps on the shore and lures to sacrifice.
Older than nature, mother even of nature,
Your white feet turn and leave no trace behind,
And nature's children, weary of her kisses,
Are fain in you to wash away all stain;
O white waves calling, calling under the moon,
O buried breasts and knees that make a bed
Softer than vision and as cool as marble,
Your voice forever calling, O white waves,
Laps on the shore and lures to sacrifice.