A SALT BREEZE. 175 



But when the poet of the Sierras places old Nep- 

 tune on the anxious bench, in this wise, 



"Behold the ocean on the beach 

 Kneel lowly down as if in prayer, 

 I hear a moan as of despair, 

 While far at sea do toss and reach 

 Some things so like white pleading hands," 



one has serious qualms. 



The breakers usually suggest to the poets rearing 

 and plunging steeds, as in Arnold : 



"Now the wild white horses play, 

 Champ and chafe and toss in the spray," 



and Stedman's spirited poem, " Surf," makes use of 

 the same image. Byron, in " Childe Harold," lays 

 his hand upon the " mane " of the ocean. Whitman 

 recalling the shapes and sounds of the shore by moon- 

 light, startles the imagination with this line : 

 " The white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing." 



One of our poets Taylor, I think has applied 

 the epithet " chameleon " to the sea, " the Chame- 

 leon sea," which fits well, for the sea takes on all 

 hues and tints. To the genial autocrat the sea is 

 " feline " and treacherous, something of the crouch- 

 ing and leaping tiger in it. The poet of " The New 

 Day," as a foil to his love and admiration for it, calls 

 it "the accursed sea." There is sea-salt in Whit- 

 man's poetry, strongly realistic epithets and phrases, 

 that had their birth upon the shore, and that per- 

 petually recur to one as he saunters on the beach. 



