Roden Berkeley Wriothesley Noel (1834–1894)

WHO would linger idle,

Dallying would lie,

When wind and wave, a bridal

Celebrating, fly?

Let him plunge among them,

Who hath woo’d enough,

Flirted with them, sung them!

In the salt sea-trough

He may win them, onward

On a buoyant crest,

Far to seaward, sunward,

Ocean-borne to rest!

Wild wind will sing over him,

And the free foam cover him,

Swimming seaward, sunward,

On a blithe sea-breast!

On a blithe sea-bosom

Swims another too,

Swims a live sea-blossom,

A grey-wing’d seamew!

Grape-green all the waves are,

By whose hurrying line

Half of ships and caves are

Buried under brine;

Supple, shifting ranges

Lucent at the crest,

With pearly surface-changes

Never laid to rest:

Now a dripping gunwale

Momently he sees,

Now a fuming funnel,

Or red flag in the breeze.

Arms flung open wide,

Lip the laughing sea:

For playfellow, for bride,

Claim her impetuously!