Great wave on wave of rosy-misted gold,
Outstretched beneath an opalescent sky
Wherein soft tints with glowing splendors vie;
From far dim ocean-distances are rolled
Sweet perfumes by the sea-wind strong and cold;
Here white sails gleam and light cloud-shadows lie,
And isles are kissed by winds that wanton by,
Or rocked by storms in unchecked passion bold.
Locked in by swelling, fir-clad hills it lies—
One sweep of undulating gold; serene,
It shines and reaches under sunset skies;
The chaste Olympics pearl the space between
Till, burning in that splendid fire, they make
Fit setting for this peerless ocean-lake.
“The Opal-Sea” as it appears in Higginson’s The Voice of April-Land (1903).
“The Opal-Sea” as it appears in Higginson’s The Vanishing Race (1911).