To The Ocean

By Thomas Hood

Shall I rebuke thee, Ocean, my old love,
That once in rage, with the wild winds at strife,
Thou darest menace my unit of a life,
Sending my clay below, my soul above,
Whilst roared thy waves, like lions when they rove
By night, and bound upon their prey by stealth?
Yet didst thou ne'er restore my fainting health? --
Didst thou ne'er murmur gently like the dove?
Nay, didst thou not against my own dear shore
Full break, last link between my land and me? --
My absent friends talk in thy very roar,
In thy waves' beat their kindly pulse I see,
And if I must not see my England more,
Next to her soil, my grave be found in thee!

Coblentz, May, 1835.