Where The Sea Winds Talk
I shall live where the sea winds talk,
by S. Robert Christensen
In a house built from flying spray.
In this sunlit peace,
Movements never cease;
Here total freedom holds sway.
I've seen the rills and rising hills,
My feet taken moss-covered paths;
But I've known no thrill
Like the sea wind's shrill,
Moulding mountains with its wrath.
On evenings with phosphorous bright,
I've seen a full kingdom of nymphs
And I wouldn't trade
Things of silver made
For this single golden glimpse.
When I age like this yellowed script,
I shall hear the wind from the West.
In a foam-filled grave
That my God will save,
I shall take eternal rest.