See not, my love, a poet by the sea
Shore standing like an ancient stone carved from
The living land. Such men as he, they come
Here often, thinking that the waves will free
Their tongues to sing of beauty, glory and
Such great eternal things. They seek to find
The spark which means the sea, and then to bind
It 'bout with words, held thus, to make it grand.
No, rather see before you one who knows
The thrust of waves upon the rocks--who goes
Along the shore with sim'lar thoughts. I bring
You here to love you on the sand and sing
To you that seas are better bound by land,
Moonlight, bright stars, and lovers hand in hand.
Christopher J. Cramer