The Sea and the Hills
Who wants to take hold of the Sea? - the sight of salt wave with no bounds -
The heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the wave the wind hounds?
The sleek round swell 'fore the storm, with no foam, quite large and still grows
Stark calm in the lap of the Line or the wild-eyed storm as it blows -
His Sea that does not show the same - his Sea and the same in all shows:
His Sea as she slows or thrills?
So and no else a way - so and no else a way - men of the hills want their Hills!
Who wants to take hold of the Sea? - the large and scorn-filled surge?
The sharp jolt, the halt step, the swerve, as the spit comes up from the verge?
The clouds of the Trades in their time, the ridged blue that roars 'neath them -
The flaws that haunt cliffs with no call and the high sail's low snaps of the hem -
His sea in no awe the same - his Sea and the same through each awe:
His sea as she seethes and stills?
So and no else a way - so and no else a way - men of the hills want their Hills!
Who wants to take hold of the Sea? Her threat as swift as her grace?
The walls of fog that roll in and the bright-winged breeze that gives chase?
The berg that shifts as it Souths and the break offs and groans that fare it -
White seas that you guess o'er the side and the just in time moon that will bare it -
His Sea as his dad has dared - his Sea as his son shall dare it:
His Sea as she serves him or kills?
So and no else a way - so and no else a way - men of the hills want their Hills!
Who wants to take hold of the Sea? Her best sole self in lieu
Of kings and their courts, and her pits out of reach than the streets men walk through -
On land, in the dust, midst the trees - on land where a soul may slay him -
On land, out of reach of her arms, and the breast on which he must lay him -
His Sea from the first that flayed - at the last that shall not flay him:
His Sea that all his life fills?
So and no else a way - so and no else a way - men of the hills want their Hills!
-- Red-Faced Small Kip
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