The wild sea roars and lashes the granite cliffs below,
And round the misty islets the loud strong tempests blow.

Along the coast the sea roars, and inland the mountains roar – the roaring at the center, like a distant clap of thunder.

The boisterous sea of liberty is never without a wave.

Come o'er the moonlit sea,
The waves are brightly glowing.

There was the boundless sea, the blue sky that stretched out endlessly, the waves, the wind, the clean fresh air, and the raucous ways of the healthy sailors.

You are now
In London, that great sea, whose ebb and flow
At once is deaf and loud, and on the shore
Vomits its wrecks, and still howls on for more.
Yet in its depth what treasures!

Everything was screaming: the sea, the wind, my heart.

The edge of the sea is a strange and beautiful place.

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits — on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand . . .

The never-ceasing boom of the great ocean as it breaks on the beach, drowns all smaller sounds.

Heart is sea,
language is shore.
Whatever sea includes,
will hit the shore.

I ’m on the sea! I ’m on the sea!
I am where I would ever be,
With the blue above and the blue below,
And silence wheresoe’er I go.

You stand as rocks stand
to which the sea reaches
in transparent waves of longing;
they are marred, finally;
everything fixed is marred.
And the sea triumphs,
like all that is false,
all that is fluent and womanly.

At night the sea is very loud,
And voices ride the tide.
At another time, in another place,
Beneath the silent moon,
We laughed together.