When the sky is serene how gently it flows, And its zither unseen ceaselessly plays; But when the rains fall a torrent it goes Boiling and foaming through the rocky close, Roaring uncheck'd to the sea's wide ways. The howl of the dog and the song of the bird, And only the kalao's hoarse call resound; Nor is the voice of vain man to be heard, My mind to harass or my steps to begird; The woodlands alone and the sea wrap me round. The sea, ah, the sea! for me it is all, As it massively sweeps from the worlds apart; Its smile in the morn to my soul is a call, And when in the even my fath seems to pall, It breathes with its sadness an echo to my heart. By night an arcanum; when translucent it glows, All spangled over with its millions of lights, And the bright sky above resplendent shows; While the waves with their sighs tell of their woes-- Tales that are lost as they roll to the heights. They tell of the world when the first dawn broke, And the sunlight over their surface played; When thousands of beings from nothingness woke, To people the depths and the heights to cloak, Wherever its life-giving kiss was laid. But when in the night the wild winds awake, And the waves in their fury begin to leap, Through the air rush the cries that my mind shake; Voices that pray, songs and moans that partake Of laments from the souls sunk down in the deep. Then from their heights the mountains groan, And the trees shiver tremulous from great unto least; The groves rustle plaintive and the herds utter moan, For they say that the ghosts of the folk that are gone Are calling them down to their death's merry feast. In terror and confusion whispers the night, While blue and green flames flit over the deep; But calm reigns again with the morning's light, And soon the bold fisherman comes into sight, As his bark rushes on and the waves sink to sleep. So onward glide the days in my lonely abode; Driven forth from the world where once I was known, I muse o'er the fate upon me bestow'd; A fragment forgotten that the moss will corrode, To hide from mankind the world in me shown. I live in the thought of the lov'd ones left, And oft their names to my mind are borne; Some have forsaken me and some by death are reft; But now 'tis all one, as through the past I drift, That past which from me can never be torn. For it is the friend that is with me always, That ever in sorrow keeps the faith in my soul; While through the still night it watches and prays, As here in my exile in my lone hut it stays, To strengthen my faith when doubts o'er me roll. That faith I keep and I hope to see shine The day when the Idea prevails over might; When after the fray and death's slow decline, Some other voice sounds, far happier than mine, To raise the glad song of the triumph of right.