William Wordsworth

By the Sea-Shore

WHY stand we gazing on the sparkling brine,
With wonder smit by its transparency,
And all enraptured with its purity?—
Because the unstained, the clear, the crystalline
Have ever in them something of benign;
Whether in gem, in water, or in sky,
A sleeping infant’s brow, or wakeful eye
Of a young maiden, only not divine.
Scarcely the hand forbears to dip its palm
For beverage drawn as from a mountain well.
Temptation centres in the liquid calm;
Our daily raiment seems no obstacle
To instantaneous plunging in, deep sea!
And revelling in long embrace with thee.