Skip to content
1837–1913

XXXVII.

Joaquin Miller

And now the tawny night fell soon, And there was neither star nor moon; And yet it seem'd it was not night. There fell a phosphorescent light,

There rose from white sands and dead men A soft light, white and fair as when The Spirit of Jehovah moved Upon the water's conscious face,

And made it His abiding-place. O mighty waters unreproved! Thou deep! where the Jehovah moved Ere soul of man was called to be!

O seas! that were created not As man, as earth, as light, as aught That is. O sea! thou art to me A terror, death, eternity.

Cookies on Poetry Cove

We use cookies to remember your language preference and — only with your consent — to learn how Poetry Cove is used. You can change your mind any time.
XXXVII. · Joaquin Miller · Poetry Cove