Sound of the Sea

Sound of the Sea

The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep,

And round the pebbly beaches far and wide

I heard the first wave of the rising tide

Rush onward with uninterrupted sweep;

A voice out of the silence of the deep,

A sound mysteriously multiplied

As of a cataract from the mountain's side,

Or roar of winds upon a wooded steep.

So  comes to us at times, from the unknown

And inaccessible solitudes of being,

The rushing of the sea-tides of the soul;

And inspirations, that we deem our own,

Are some divine foreshadowing and foreseeing

Of things beyond our reason or control.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Hymn to the Night

Hymn to the Night

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I heard the trailing garments of the night

Sweep through her marble halls!

I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light

From the celestial walls!

I felt her presence by its spell of might,

Stoop o'er me from above

The calm, majestic presence of the Night,

As of the one I love.

I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight,

The manifold, soft chimes,

That fill the haunted chambers of the Night,

Like some old poet's rhymes.

From the cool cisterns of the midnight air

My spirit drank repose;

The fountain of perpetual peace flows there,--

From those deep cisterns flows.

O' holy Night from thee I learn to bear

What man has borne before!

Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care

And they complain no more.

Peace! Peace! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer!

Descend with broad-winged flight,

The welcome, the thrice-prayed for, the most fair,

The best-beloved Night!

In Loving Memory

Mary Lee Smith-Brown

The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls

 

The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls
by Henry Wadesworth Longfellow


The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveler hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.


Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.


The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but evermore
Returns the traveler to the shore,

And the tide rises, the tide falls.


John 5:11  "Truly, truly, I say to you, he who hears My word, and believes Him who sent Me, has eternal life, and does not come into judgment, but has passed out of death into life."

In Loving Memory
Mary Lee Smith-Brown (1928-2019)
Photo:  Gulf of Mexico, Panama City, Florida

A Psalm of Life

A Psalm of Life
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.


Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.


Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.


Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.


In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!


Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,-act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!


Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;


Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing shall take heart again.


Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fare;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn no labor and to wait.




This poem expresses how a person's "footprint in the sands of time" can impact the lives of others.  Throughout her life, my mom reached out to countless others in need:  cooking meals,  collecting and serving food banks, clothing, visiting nursing homes, teaching children Sunday School, sharing her garden, comforting and praying for family, friends and neighbors.  She has left footprints for us to follow on how to be kind, compassionate and to love and serve others.


In Loving Memory
Mary Lee Smith-Brown
April 16, 1928 Canton, Georgia
July 19, 2019 Columbus, Georgia

"The Sea Awoke at Midnight"

 

The Sound of the Sea

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep,
And round the pebbly beaches far and wide
I heard the first wave of the rising tide
Rush onward with uninterrupted sweep;
A voice out of the silence of the deep,
A sound mysteriously multiplied
As of a cataract from the mountain's side,
Or roar of winds upon a wooded steep.
So comes to us at times, from the unknown
And inaccessible solitudes of being,
The rushing of the sea-tides of the soul;
And inspirations, that we deem our own,
Are some divine of foreshadowing and foreseeing
Of things beyond our reason or control.        

Wings of Night

The Day Is Done


THE DAY is done and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night 
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village 
Gleam through the rain and the mist 
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing 
That is not akin to pain 
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.

Come read to me some poem 
Some simple and heartfelt lay 
That shall soothe this restless feeling 
And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters 
Not from the bards sublime 
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.

For like strains of martial music 
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet 
Whose songs gushed from his heart 
As showers from the clouds of summer 
Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who through long days of labor 
And nights devoid of ease 
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care 
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice 
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music 
And the cares that infest the day 
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs 
And as silently steal away.


by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls

The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls    

                               

The tide rises, the tide falls,

The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;

Along the sea-sands damp and brown

The traveller hastens toward the town,

      And the tide rises, the tide falls.

Darkness settles on roofs and walls,

But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;

The little waves, with their soft, white hands,

Efface the footprints in the sands,

      And the tide rises, the tide falls.

The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls

Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;

The day returns, but nevermore

Returns the traveller to the shore,

      And the tide rises, the tide falls.

 

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

"The Lighthouse" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Lighthouse

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


  The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
  And on its outer point, some miles away,
The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,
  A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.

Even at this distance I can see the tides,
  Upheaving, break unheard along its base,
A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides
  In the white lip and tremor of the face.

And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright,
  Through the deep purple of the twilight air,
Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light
  With strange, unearthly splendor in the glare!

Not one alone; from each projecting cape
  And perilous reef along the ocean's verge,
Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape,
  Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge.

Like the great giant Christopher it stands
  Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave,
Wading far out among the rocks and sands,
  The night-o'ertaken mariner to save.

And the great ships sail outward and return,
  Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells,
And ever joyful, as they see it burn,
  They wave their silent welcomes and farewells.

They come forth from the darkness, and their sails
  Gleam for a moment only in the blaze,
And eager faces, as the light unveils,
  Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze.

The mariner remembers when a child,
  On his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink;
And when, returning from adventures wild,
  He saw it rise again o'er ocean's brink.

Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same
  Year after year, through all the silent night
Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame,
  Shines on that inextinguishable light!

It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp
  The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace;
It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp,
  And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece.

The startled waves leap over it; the storm
  Smites it with all the scourges of the rain,
And steadily against its solid form
  Press the great shoulders of the hurricane.

The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din
  Of wings and winds and solitary cries,
Blinded and maddened by the light within,
  Dashes himself against the glare, and dies.

A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock,
  Still grasping in his hand the fire of Jove,
It does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock,
  But hails the mariner with words of love.

"Sail on!" it says, "sail on, ye stately ships!
  And with your floating bridge the ocean span;
Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse,
  Be yours to bring man nearer unto man!"

Daylight and Moonlight

Daylight and Moonlight

In broad daylight, and at noon,
Yesterday I saw the moon
Sailing high, but faint and white,
As a school-boy's paper kite.

In broad daylight, yesterday,
I read a Poet's mystic lay;
And it seemed to me at most
As a phantom, or a ghost.

But at length the feverish day
Like a passion died away,
And the night, serene and still,
Fell on village, vale, and hill.

Then the moon, in all her pride,
Like a spirit glorified,
Filled and overflowed the night
With revelations of her light.

And the Poet's song again
Passed like music through my brain;
Night interpreted to me
All its grace and mystery.



By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Clouds Came Down to Earth

 

This particular morning was raining, dark and dreary.  You could not see the mountain range for the low hanging clouds.  The clouds came down to earth.

The Rainy Day

  The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

Where Sleepless Waters Flow

What does one do when they cannot have a restful night and sleep does not come.  This person turns toward nature sounds and looks at photos of a mountain creek.  I close my eyes and imagine hearing the rushing waters breaking over the rocks. The rhythmic sounds of flowing waters is better then counting sheep.

To The River Charles

River! that in silence windest
Through the meadows, bright and free,
Till at length thy rest thou findest
In the bosom of the sea!

Four long years of mingled feeling,
Half in rest, and half in strife,
I have seen thy waters stealing
Onward, like the stream of life.

Thou hast taught me, Silent River!
Many a lesson, deep and long;
Thou hast been a generous giver;
I can give thee but a song.

Oft in sadness and in illness,
I have watched thy current glide,
Till the beauty of its stillness
Overflowed me, like a tide.

And in better hours and brighter,
When I saw thy waters gleam,
I have felt my heart beat lighter,
And leap onward with thy stream.

Not for this alone I love thee,
Nor because thy waves of blue
From celestial seas above thee
Take their own celestial hue.

Where yon shadowy woodlands hide thee,
And thy waters disappear,
Friends I love have dwelt beside thee,
And have made thy margin dear.

More than this;--thy name reminds me
Of three friends, all true and tried;
And that name, like magic, binds me
Closer, closer to thy side.

Friends my soul with joy remembers!
How like quivering flames they start,
When I fan the living embers
On the hearth-stone of my heart!

'T is for this, thou Silent River!
That my spirit leans to thee;
Thou hast been a generous giver,
Take this idle song from me.

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Salt Water Springs "Into Each Life Some Rain must Fall"

I took a quick trip to Salt Water Springs.  It was raining so there were very few people at the park.  It was lush with hanging moss, oak trees and flowing bluish green spring waters.  It has been a rainy week in Florida with many a thunder storm pounding the landscape.  The famous words "Into each life some rain must fall" is by poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.  It was too wet to do any hiking but the scenery was beautiful even with dreary grey clouds.

The Rainy Day

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Seatoun Coastal Drive's Blue Horizon

I drove the entire loop of the Seatoun and Miramar coasts.  Seatoun is an eastern suburb of Wellington, the capital city of New Zealand. It is on the east coast of the Miramar Peninsula.  The coastline was rocky with dark sand against a blue horizon and deep blue sea. For summer, it was not crowded except on the weekends.  Very different from Florida's white sand beaches with people from all over the world.  Quiet, peaceful and serene and the array of blue on blue gave it perfect harmony.

 
The Tide Rises The Tide Falls
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea the sea in the darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.

Mt. Ruapehu A Painting in the Sky

 

 

 Another photo of Mt. Ruapehu against a backdrop of rain clouds.

The Rainy Day
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

Sounds of the Sea -- Cumberland Sound

These pictures were taken this week from the pier at Fort Clinch State Park of Cumberland Sound.  I basically had the pier to myself.  In the "Sound of the Sea", Henry Wadsworth Longfellow describes the sound of the sea waves as they lap against the shore and the tide rises.  He compares the rush of the tide to rushes of inspiration people experience sometimes.

"Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves
that break upon the idle seashore of the mind."
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Sound of the Sea

The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep,
  And round the pebbly beaches far and wide
  I heard the first wave of the rising tide
  Rush onward with uninterrupted sweep;
A voice out of the silence of the deep,
  A sound mysteriously multiplied
  As of a cataract from the mountain's side,
  Or roar of winds upon a wooded steep.
So comes to us at times, from the unknown
  And inaccessible solitudes of being,
  The rushing of the sea-tides of the soul;
And inspirations, that we deem our own,
  Are some divine foreshadowing and foreseeing
  Of things beyond our reason or control.

Deep Within the Heart of a Mountain My Soul Longs to be...

 

The lady in red is me walking on The Medicine Bow Trail.  The image conveys a lonely feeling to see the vastness of the mountains and how small I am in comparison but I was feeling exuberant and not lonely at all.  There was no place I would rather be then on a mountain top.  I felt like I was close to heaven.  There are so many spectacular views that it is hard to know where to start.  I did not have the resources to document the name of the mountains and the valleys in my photographs.  At Medicine Bow you can see 20 miles of mountain ranges and Wyoming 35 miles away.

Deep Within the Heart of a Mountain...

Deep Within the Heart of a Mountain
My Soul Longs to be...
There's a fire burning,
A passion so deep within my soul
 It blazes like the sun
 With an unquenchable fire
To follow every mountain path
 To Touch the earth's greatest majesties
To see what the eagle sees
In flight over the mountain peaks
and into the valleys below...
By PL Fallin

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow express a love for the sea the way I feel about the mountains:

The Secret of the Sea

Ah! what pleasant visions haunt me
   As I gaze upon the sea!
All the old romantic legends,
   All my dreams, come back to me.

Sails of silk and ropes of sandal,
   Such as gleam in ancient lore;
And the singing of the sailors,
   And the answer from the shore!

Most of all, the Spanish ballad
   Haunts me oft, and tarries long,
Of the noble Count Arnaldos
   And the sailor's mystic song.
  
Like the long waves on a sea-beach,
   Where the sand as silver shines,
With a soft, monotonous cadence,
   Flow its unrhymed lyric lines:--
Telling how the Count Arnaldos, 
    With his hawk upon his hand,
Saw a fair and stately galley,
   Steering onward to the land;--
  
How he heard the ancient helmsman
   Chant a song so wild and clear,
That the sailing sea-bird slowly
   Poised upon the mast to hear,
  
Till his soul was full of longing,
   And he cried, with impulse strong,--
"Helmsman! for the love of heaven,
   Teach me, too, that wondrous song!"
"Wouldst thou,"--so the helmsman answered,
   "Learn the secret of the sea?
Only those who brave its dangers
   Comprehend its mystery!"

In each sail that skims the horizon,
   In each landward-blowing breeze,
I behold that stately galley,
   Hear those mournful melodies;

Till my soul is full of longing
   For the secret of the sea,
And the heart of the great ocean
   Sends a thrilling pulse through me.