Still bent to make some port he knows not where, Still standing for some false impossible shore.
He turn'd him right and round about, Upon the Irish shore, And gae his bridle reins a shake, With, Adieu for evermore, my dear, And Adieu for evermore!
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man less, but nature more.
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Oceanroll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruinhis control Stops with the shore.
There anchoring, Peter chose from man to hide, There hang his head, and view the lazy tide In its hot slimy channel slowly glide; Where the small eels that left the deeper way For the warm shore, within the shallows play; Where gaping mussels, left upon the mud, Slope their slow passage to the fallen flood.
Bequeath us no earthly shore until Is answered in the vortex of our grave The seal's wide spindrift gaze toward paradise.
It happened one day, about noon, going towards my boat, I was exceedingly surprised with the print of a man's naked foot on the shore, which was very plain to be seen in the sand.I stood like one thunderstruck, or as if I had seen an apparition.
Arms, and the man I sing, who, forced by fate, And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate, Expelled and exiled, left theTrojan shore.
This embattled shore, portal of freedom, is forever hallowed by theideals, thevalorand thesacrifices ofour fellow countrymen.
The silver swan, who living had no note, When death approached, unlocked her silent throat; Leaning her breast against the reedy shore, Thus sung her first and last, and sung no more: 'Farewell, all joys; Oh death, come close mine eyes; More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.'
When I behold, upon the night's starred face Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour, That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting love;then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness so sink.
Gone before To that unknown and silent shore.
Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me: I lift my lamp beside the golden door.
When awful darkness and silence reign Over the great Gromboolian plain, Through the long, long wintry nights, When the angry breakers roar As they beat on the rocky shore When storm-clouds brood on the towering heights Of the Hills of the Chankly Bore.
By the shore of Gitche Gumee By the shining Big-Sea-Water, Stood the wigwam of Nokomis, Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis. Dark behind it rose the forest, Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees, 516 Rose the firs with cones upon them; Bright before it beat the water, Beat the clear and sunny water, Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water.
I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell: I know the grass beyond the door, The sweet keen smell, The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
I have sat by night beside a cold lake And touched things smoother than moonlight on still water, But the moon on this cloud sea is not human, And here is no shore, no intimacy, Only the start of space, the road to suns.
I see the waves upon the shore, Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown.
Daisy and Lily, Lazy and silly, Walk by the shore of the wan grass sea, Talking once more 'neath a swan-bosomed tree.
Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore, And the individual withers, and the world is more and more.
Writing criticism is to writing fiction and poetryas hugging the shore is to sailing in the open sea.
Jesus shall reign where'er the sun Does his successive journeys run; His kingdom stretch from shore to shore, Till moons shall wax and wane no more.
Minds like beds always made up (more stony than a shore) unwilling or unable.
Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal silence: truths that wake, To perish never: Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, Nor man nor boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterlyabolish or destroy! Hence in a season of calm weather, Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
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