O WANDERING minstrel, wild Wind o' the Sea,
That knowest the innermost being of me
Who love thy rude sport with the measureless brine,
And whose spirit is wayward and vagrant as thine,
O wandering minstrel, sad Wind o' the Sea,
That learnest world-secrets by swift errantry,
Blow hither to me o'er the wide Eastern main
And tell me what meaneth the poignant refrain
Of surges that moan like sad souls in their sleep,
And those shuddering shadows that darken the deep.
Blow, wild Wind o' the Sea!
Blow, sad Wind o' the Sea!
And speed with thy lay to thy lorn devotee.
Then the Sea-wind sang forth: 'I blow from afar
The ocean's accompaniment to the war
Of the beast and the god that dwell in thy soul,
Forever at strife for the gain of the whole
Of thy manhood's estate, of thy love and desire,
So thou sink to the one; to the other aspire.
And the deep, dark, shuddering shadows,' he shrilled,
'Are the planes of thy life which Destiny willed
The devilish depths of thy sensual hours
When the beast in thy soul thralls thy senses and pow'rs
The shadowy heights of thy consecrate days
When the god in thy soul is lord of thy ways.'
Thus ruthlessly sang the wild Wind o' the Sea
That learnest soul-secrets by swift errantry.
Ah, wild Wind o' the Sea!
Ah, sad Wind o' the Sea!
That revealest the innermost being of me.
