The lighthouse poem

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The lighthouse poem

The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
And on its outer point, some miles away,
The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,
A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.

Even at this distance I can see the tides,
Upheaving, break unheard along its base,
A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides
In the white lip and tremor of the face.

And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright,
Through the deep purple of the twilight air,
Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light
With strange, unearthly splendor in the glare!

Not one alone; from each projecting cape
And perilous reef along the ocean's verge,
Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape,
Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge.

Like the great giant Christopher it stands
Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave,
Wading far out among the rocks and sands,
The night-o'ertaken mariner to save.

And the great ships sail outward and return,
Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells,
And ever joyful, as they see it burn,
They wave their silent welcomes and farewells.

They come forth from the darkness, and their sails
Gleam for a moment only in the blaze,
And eager faces, as the light unveils,
Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze.

The mariner remembers when a child,
On his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink;
And when, returning from adventures wild,
He saw it rise again o'er ocean's brink.

Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same
Year after year, through all the silent night
Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame,
Shines on that inextinguishable light!

It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp
The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace;
It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp,
And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece.

The startled waves leap over it; the storm
Smites it with all the scourges of the rain,
And steadily against its solid form
Press the great shoulders of the hurricane.

The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din
Of wings and winds and solitary cries,
Blinded and maddened by the light within,
Dashes himself against the glare, and dies.

A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock,
Still grasping in his hand the fire of Jove,
It does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock,
But hails the mariner with words of love.

"Sail on!" it says, "sail on, ye stately ships!
And with your floating bridge the ocean span;
Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse,
Be yours to bring man nearer unto man!"

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Seaside and the Fireside

This entry was posted on segunda-feira, 24 de agosto de 2009 at segunda-feira, agosto 24, 2009 and is filed under , . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .

4 comentários

Call me Espichel. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.

25 de agosto de 2009 às 17:56

Call me Espichel, call me Espichel... LOL!*

25 de agosto de 2009 às 20:11

I am serving time
All for a crime I did commit
You want the truth?
You know I'd do it all again
Left for dead, heaven is only in my head

In my head, in my head
In my head, in my head

I heard a voice
Calling from down inside the well
"See that silver shine?"
She said to come claim what was mine
So down I fell, down into the water black
My prison cell, only the moon was shining back

Shining back, shining back
Shining back, shining back

If I seem lost
Well, I weighed the cost
And chose my crime
Now it's mine, all mine!

I heard the voice
Calling from just outside the well
She said
"You fool, now that you know your end is near
You always fall for what you desire or what you fear"

What you fear, what you fear
What you fear, what you fear

Resurrected, living in a lighthouse
If you leave them ships are going wreck

Resurrected, living in a lighthouse
The lions and the lambs ain't sleeping yet

Resurrected, living in a lighthouse
Can you see the funny side?
The ships are going wreck

Resurrected, living in a lighthouse
The lions and the lambs ain't sleeping yet

The lions and the lambs ain't sleeping yet
The lions and the lambs ain't sleeping yet

25 de agosto de 2009 às 23:01

Pedro P.! =) Há quanto tempo!*

26 de agosto de 2009 às 09:07

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