The Call of the Sea

(Sidi Bishr. Egypt. Feb. 18th, 1916.)

All day long in the sun,
I heard the blue sea murmur
Softly, gently, sweetly,
As the murmured prayers of a nun;
Her bosom rising and falling
Like the breast of a young maid sleeping.
Save where the fine gold sand lay firmer.
And the waves flew gaily, fleetly,
In a flutter of white foam leaping,
And calling—in joyousness calling
Through a mist of spray
As a child calls to a child in play.

All night long
I listened and heard the sea
Whispering, whispering lonely,
A sad, sweet, sorrowful song—
A wistful song.
That touched the heart of me.
Its cadence strange and holy
Like music that haunts the brain—
Half-joy, half-pain,
With a sorrowful sense of the rapture
Of magic nights of love.
Lost beyond all recapture.
Ah, me! as I heard the sea
Whispering through the night,
I heard once more
In the murmured music along the shore
A girl who sang to me,
Once on a wonderful night of moon,
In a world of silver light.
Ah, me! the sea's soft moon
Through the long, slow night!

To-day,
The sea drowned a man—
Caught him up in his play,
Swept him away.
Heard him cry, frightened, fighting for breath
As he sank,
Sported and played with him, tossed him in silver spray.
Beat him to death,
Threw him back on the sand
Ugly and swollen and dead.
With his hair matted and lank
On his battered head.

All night long I listen and hear the sea
Call with the voice of death,
And the wind from the sea
Is damp with the dampness of death,
And the tide creeps in to the shore
Muttering, muttering, sinister, stealthily dark—
Hark!

Muttering—whispering—whining—
Calling for more!