Thence in his heart the great same joy began,
Of child that made him man: 
And turned again from all hearts else on quest,
He communed with his own heart, and had rest. 
And like sea-winds upon loud waters ran
His days and dreams together, till the joy
Burned in him of the boy. 
Till the earth’s great comfort and the sweet sea’s breath
Breathed and blew life in where was heartless death,
Death spirit-stricken of soul-sick days, where strife
Of thought and flesh made mock of death and life. 
And grace returned upon him of his birth
Where heaven was mixed with heavenlike sea and earth;
And song shot forth strong wings that took the sun
From inward, fledged with might of sorrow and mirth
And father’s fire made mortal in his son. 
Nor was not spirit of strength in blast and breeze
To exalt again the sun’s child and the sea’s;
For as wild mares in Thessaly grow great
With child of ravishing winds, that violate
Their leaping length of limb with manes like fire
And eyes outburning heaven’s
With fires more violent than the lightning levin’s
And breath drained out and desperate of desire,
Even so the spirit in him, when winds grew strong,
Grew great with child of song. 
Nor less than when his veins first leapt for joy
To draw delight in such as burns a boy,
Now too the soul of all his senses felt
The passionate pride of deep sea-pulses dealt
Through nerve and jubilant vein
As from the love and largess of old time,
And with his heart again
The tidal throb of all the tides keep rhyme
And charm him from his own soul’s separate sense
With infinite and invasive influence
That made strength sweet in him and sweetness strong,
Being now no more a singer, but a song.

Till one clear day when brighter sea-wind blew
And louder sea-shine lightened, for the waves
Were full of godhead and the light that saves,
His father’s, and their spirit had pierced him through,
He felt strange breath and light all round him shed
That bowed him down with rapture; and he knew
His father’s hand, hallowing his humbled head,
And the old great voice of the old good time, that said: 

“Child of my sunlight and the sea, from birth
A fosterling and fugitive on earth;
Sleepless of soul as wind or wave or fire,
A manchild with an ungrown God’s desire;
Because thou hast loved nought mortal more than me,
Thy father, and thy mother-hearted sea;
Because thou hast set thine heart to sing, and sold
Life and life’s love for song, God’s living gold;
Because thou hast given thy flower and fire of youth
To feed men’s hearts with visions, truer than truth;
Because thou hast kept in those world-wandering eyes
The light that makes me music of the skies;
Because thou hast heard with world-unwearied ears
The music that puts light into the spheres;
Have therefore in thine heart and in thy mouth
The sound of song that mingles north and south,
The song of all the winds that sing of me,
And in thy soul the sense of all the sea.”