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A WORD OUT OF THE SEA.

OUT of the rocked cradle,

Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle, Out of the boy's mother's womb, and from the nipples of her breasts,

Out of the Ninth Month midnight,

Over the sterile sands, and the fields beyond, where the child, leaving his bed, wandered alone, bareheaded, barefoot,

Down from the showered halo,

Up from the mystic play of shadows, twining and twisting as if they were alive,

Out from the patches of briers and blackberries, From the memories of the bird that chanted to me, From your memories, sad brother

risings and fallings I heard,

from the fitful

From under that yellow half-moon, late-risen, and swollen as if with tears,

From those beginning notes of sickness and love, there in the transparent mist,

From the thousand responses of my heart, never to

cease,

From the myriad thence-aroused words,

From the word stronger and more delicious than any, From such, as now they start, the scene revisiting, As a flock, twittering, rising, or overhead passing, Borne hither ere all eludes me, hurriedly,

A man- yet by these tears a little boy again, Throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves, I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter,

Taking all hints to use them-but swiftly leaping beyond them,

A reminiscence sing.

REMINISCENCE.

1. ONCE, Paumanok,

When the snows had melted, and the Fifth Month grass was growing,

Up this sea-shore, in some briers,

Two guests from Alabama-two together,

And their nest, and four light-green eggs, spotted with brown,

And every day the he-bird, to and fro, near at hand, And every day the she-bird, crouched on her nest, silent, with bright eyes,

And every day I, a curious boy, never too close, never disturbing them,

Cautiously peering, absorbing, translating.

2. Shine! Shine!

Pour down your warmth, great Sun!

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Winds blow South, or winds blow North,
Day come white, or night come black,

Home, or rivers and mountains from home,

Singing all time, minding no time,

If we two but keep together.

4. Till of a sudden,

May-be killed, unknown to her mate,

One forenoon the she-bird crouched not on the nest,
Nor returned that afternoon, nor the next,

Nor ever appeared again.

5. And thenceforward, all summer, in the sound of the

sea,

And at night, under the full of the moon, in calmer weather,

Over the hoarse surging of the sea,

Or flitting from brier to brier by day,

I saw, I heard at intervals, the remaining one, the he-bird,

The solitary guest from Alabama.

6. Blow! Blow!

Blow up sea-winds along Paumanok's shore;

I wait and I wait, till you blow my mate to me.

7. Yes, when the stars glistened,

All night long, on the prong of a moss-scallop'd stake,

Down, almost amid the slapping waves,

Sat the lone singer, wonderful, causing tears.

8. He called on his mate,

He poured forth the meanings which I, of all men, know.

9. Yes, my brother, I know,

The rest might not - but I have treasured every note,

For once, and more than once, dimly, down to the beach gliding,

Silent, avoiding the moonbeams, blending myself with the shadows,

Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the
sounds and sights after their sorts,

The white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing,
I, with bare feet, a child, the wind wafting my hair,
Listened long and long.

10. Listened, to keep, to sing-now translating the notes,

Following you, my brother.

11. Soothe! Soothe!

Close on its wave soothes the wave behind,

And again another behind, embracing and lapping,

every one close,

But my love soothes not me.

12. Low hangs the moon it rose late,

O it is lagging - O I think it is heavy with love.

13. O madly the sea pushes upon the land,

With love- with love.

14. O night!

O do I not see my love fluttering out there among the breakers?

What is that little black thing I see there in the white?

15. Loud! Loud!

Loud I call to you, my love!

High and clear I shoot my voice over the waves,
Surely you must know who is here,

You must know who I am, my love.

16. Low-hanging moon!

What is that dusky spot in your brown yellow?
O it is the shape of my mate!

O moon, do not keep her from me any longer.

17. Land! O land!

Whichever way I turn, O I think you could give me my mate back again, if you would,

For I am almost sure I see her dimly whichever way I look.

18. O rising stars!

Perhaps the one I want so much will rise with some of you.

19. O throat !

Sound clearer through the atmosphere !

Pierce the woods, the earth,

Somewhere listening to catch you must be the one I want.

20. Shake out, carols !

Solitary here- the night's carols !

Carols of lonesome love! Death's carols !

Carols under that lagging, yellow, waning moon !
O, under that moon, where she droops almost down
into the sea!

O reckless, despairing carols.

21. But soft!

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And do you wait a moment, you husky-noised sea,
For somewhere I believe I heard my mate responding

to me,

So faint - I must be still to listen,

But not altogether still, for then she might not come immediately to me.

22. Hither, my love!

Here I am! Here!

With this just-sustained note I announce myself to you,
This gentle call is for you, my

love.

23. Do not be decoyed elsewhere!
That is the whistle of the wind·
That is the fluttering of the spray,
Those are the shadows of leaves.

24. O darkness! O in vain!

25.

O I am very sick and sorrowful.

it is not my voice,

O brown halo in the sky, near the moon, drooping upon the sea!

O troubled reflection in the sea!

O throat! O throbbing heart!

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O all and I singing uselessly all the night.

26. Murmur! Murmur on!

O murmurs· · you yourselves make me continue to sing,
I know not why.

27. O past! O joy!

In the air in the woods

over fields,

Loved! Loved! Loved! Loved! Loved!

Loved but no more with me,

We two together no more.

28. The aria sinking,

All else continuing the stars shining,

The winds blowing- the notes of the wondrous bird echoing,

With angry moans the fierce old mother yet, as ever, incessantly moaning,

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