… The wind and waves, forever rift,
Though kinsfolk ever one.
They tumble and toss, and churn and sift
To every form but calm…
… The plainness of his dry-weeds way
That stirs inside the wind
Is stranger not, not faraway,
From waves that splash and swim.
… Entreats again her surging sea
To stir his sleepiness:
Her secret hidden mystery
Has woke him with a kiss.
… And out he steps upon the sea,
The foolish thought to dare,
Or courage take, whatever it be,
He sets his foot out there.
… Now, falling through the fainting wave
Is not the major thing,
But that one has set out at all
Invite the victor’s ring— !!!