By the Sea: I. The Assumption

Why would the open sky not be denied
Possession of me, when I sat to-day
Rock-couched, and round my feet the soft slave lay,
My singing Sea, dark-bosom’d, dusky-eyed?
She breathed low mystery of song, she sighed,
And stirred herself, and set lithe limbs to play
In blandishing serpent-wreaths, and would betray
An anklet gleaming, or a swaying side.
Why could she not detain me? Why must I
Devote myself to the dread Heaven, adore
The spacious pureness, the large ardour? why
Sprang forth my heart as though all wanderings
Had end? To what last bliss did I upsoar
Beating on indefatigable wings?