staring at the sea

staring at the sea

So pure the sky, so quite was the air !
So like, so very like, was day to day!
Whene'er I look'd, thy images still was there
It trembled but it never pass'd away.

How perfect was the calm ! it seem'd no sleep
No mood which season take away, or brings
I could have fancied that mighty Deep
Was even the gentlest of all genlty things.

Ah ! if mine had been the Painter's hand
To express what then i saw, and add the gleam
The light that was never on the sea or the land
The consecraction, the poet dream