I clasp my hands above me, bend my breast,
And take my plunge into these silent regions, --
Those ever-gracious, healing depths, where legions
Of human hearts have found their final rest.
The silent there sifts cooling on the sands;
No storm disturbs that everlasting quiet;
The coral gleams; the sea-flower blossoms by it;
And unseen currents break on pearly strands.
I, too, once wrought upon the sun-warmed earth.
But ah! the light was blinding in its brightness;
The noon-day sky, relentless in its whiteness;
The stars unpitying, in their nightly mirth.
No peace for me lived in the sunset’s glow;
No faith came to me from my daily striving,
No hope – until I learned the trick of diving
For the pearls that lie in wait below.
H. C. Peterson
The Kiote, Midsummer 1899.