Sea Drift (1903-04)

Solo
Yes my brother I know,
The rest might not, but I have treasur'd every note,
For more than once dimly down to the beach gliding
Silent, avoiding the moonbeams, blending myself with the shadows,
Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes,
the sounds and sights after their sorts.
The white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing,
I, with bare feet, a child, the wind wafting my hair,
Listen'd long and long.
Listen'd to keep, to sing, now translating the notes,
Following you, my brother.

Chorus
Soothe! soothe! soothe!
Close on its wave soothes the wave behind,
And again another behind embracing and
lapping, every one close,

Solo
But my love soothes not me, not me.

Chorus
Low hangs the moon, it rose late,
It is lagging - O I think it is heavy with love, with love.

Walt Whitman