Classic Poem

We strive together the far heights to reach.
The longing for the mountains and the sea
Doth ever, sweetheart, overshadow thee;
Ever their music ringeth through my speech.
Ours is the rapture of the lonely beach
When the white breakers surge tumultuously,
And ours the glory of the pine-clad lea;
The mountains and the ocean chant to each.

Thou art the mountain-air: I am the sea:
Thou bringest me the breath of all thy pines
And all thy blossoms' beauty and their glee
And all the glory of fern-draped inclines
And all thy white-plumed streams: — I give to thee
My sea-song, born where the grey water shines.