Wind In The Pine

Oh, I can hear you, God, above the cry
         Of tossing trees--
Rolling your windy tides across the sky,
         And splashing your silver seas
               Over the pine,
         To the water line
               Of the moon.
Oh, I can hear you, God,
Above the wail of the lonely loon--
When the pine tops pitch and nod--
    Chanting your melodies
Of ghostly waterfalls and avalanches,
Swashing your wind among the branches
    To make them pure and white.

Wash over me, God, with your piney breeze,
    And your moon's wet silver pool;
Wash over me, God, with your wind and night
    And leave me clean and cool.

                       ~ Lew Sarett

A Sea Song

A wet sheet and a flowing sea;
    A wind that follows fast,
And fills the white and rustling sail
    And bends the gallant mast;
And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
    While like the eagle free,
Away the good ship flies, and leaves
    Old England on the lee.

O for a soft and gentle wind!
    I heard a fair one cry;
But give to me the snoring breeze
    And white waves heaving high;
And white waves heaving high, my lads,
    The good ship light and free--
The world of waters is our home,
    And merry men are we.

There's tempest in yon horned moon,
    And lightning in yon cloud;
But hark the music, mariners!
    The wind is piping loud;
The wind is piping loud, my boys,
    The lightning flashes free--
While the hollow oak our palace is,
    Our heritage--the sea.

      ~ Allan Cunningham