Young Sea by Carl Sandburg

Young Sea
By Carl Sandburg

The sea is never still.
It pounds on the shore
Restless as a young heart,
Hunting.

The sea speaks
And only the stormy hearts
Know what it says:
It is the face
          of a rough mother speaking.

The sea is young.
One storm cleans all the hoar
And loosens the age of it.
I hear is laughing, reckless.

They love the sea,
Men who ride on it
And know they will die
Under the salt of it

Let only the young come,
    Says the sea.

Let them kiss my face
    And hear me.

I am the last word
    And I tell
Where storms and stars come from.

On The Breakwater by Carl Sandburg

On the Breakwater
By Carl Sandburg

On the breakwater in the summer dark, a man and a
      girl are sitting,
She across his knee and they are looking face into face
Talking to each other without words, singing rythms in
       silence to each other.

A funnel of white ranges the blue dusk from an out-
       going boat,
Playing its searchlight, puzzled, abrupt, over a streak of
       green,
And two on the breakwater keep their silence, she on his
       knee.