Classic Poem

Beside the ocean, wandering on the shore,
I seek no measure of the infinite sea;
Beneath the solemn stars that speak to me,
I may not care to reason out their lore;
Among the mountains, whose bright summits o'er
The flush of morning brightens, there may be
Only a sense of might and majesty;
And yet a thrill of infinite life they pour.

Through all my being, and uplift me high
Above my little self and weary days.
So, in thy presence, Emerson, I hear
A sea-voice sounding 'neath a boundless sky,
While mountainous thoughts tower o'er life's common ways,
And in thy sky the stars of truth appear.