Sara Teasedale: The Sea Wind

The Sea Wind

I am a pool in a peaceful place, I greet the great sky face to face, I know the stars and the stately moon And the wind that runs with rippling shoon— But why does it always bring to me The far-off, beautiful sound of the sea?
The marsh-grass weaves me a wall of green, But the wind comes whispering in between, In the dead of night when the sky is deep The wind comes waking me out of sleep— Why does it always bring to me The far-off, terrible call of the sea?