William Ellery Channing (1818–1901)

OUR boat to the waves go free,

By the bending tide, where the curled wave breaks,

Like the track of the wind on the white snowflakes:

Away, away! ’Tis a path o’er the sea.

Blasts may rave,—spread the sail,

For our spirits can wrest the power from the wind,

And the gray clouds yield to the sunny mind,

Fear not we the whirl of the gale.

Waves on the beach, and the wild sea-foam,

With a leap, and a dash, and a sudden cheer,

Where the seaweed makes its bending home,

And the sea-birds swim on the crests so clear,

Wave after wave, they are curling o’er,

While the white sand dazzles along the shore.