Poems (Browning)/The Story of the Waves
The Story of the Waves
The ocean foam breaks on the shore;
A thousand hurrying waves or more
Move with the tide, as, leaping high,
The restless army marches by;
Just so we tramp, on, always on—
Though countless sleep, the rest march on;
For those gone Home before the dawn,
Or rosy herald of the sun,
Were little feet long tired before
They ever reached the ocean shore;
They were the waves, the tiny hands,
That never clasped the glittering sands.
A thousand hurrying waves or more
Move with the tide, as, leaping high,
The restless army marches by;
Just so we tramp, on, always on—
Though countless sleep, the rest march on;
For those gone Home before the dawn,
Or rosy herald of the sun,
Were little feet long tired before
They ever reached the ocean shore;
They were the waves, the tiny hands,
That never clasped the glittering sands.