sea (n.)
- abundance
- acres
- barrels
- billow
- blue
- bore
- breakers
- brine
- briny
- bushel
- chop
- choppiness
- comb
- comber
- copiousness
- countlessness
- deep
- drink
- eagre
- flood
- heave
- hydrosphere
- lift
- load
- lop
- main
- mass
- mountain
- much
- multitude
- numerousness
- ocean
- peak
- peck
- plenitude
- plenty
- profusion
- quantity
- riffle
- ripple
- rise
- roll
- roller
- send
- spate
- superabundance
- superfluity
- surf
- surge
- swell
- tide
- tons
- trough
- tsunami
- undulation
- volume
- wave
- wavelet
- world
sea (adv.)
sea (adj.)
Alone, alone,—all, all alone;
Alone on a wide, wide sea.
When stars are in the quiet skies,
Then most I pine for thee;
Bend on me then thy tender eyes,
As stars look on the sea.
When Israel was from bondage led,
Led by the Almighty's hand
From out of foreign land,
The great sea beheld and fled.
The best thing I know between France and England is the sea.
A rude and boisterous captain of the sea.
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods;
There is a rapture on the lonely shore;
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more.
There ariseth a little cloud out of the sea, like a man's hand.
Come o'er the moonlit sea,
The waves are brightly glowing.
Broad based upon her people's will,
And compassed by the inviolate sea.
The burden of the desert of the sea.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree,
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
They stood aloof, the scars remaining,—
Like cliffs which had been rent asunder:
A dreary sea now flows between.
The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper o'er the sea,
Off shot the spectre-bark.
Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious, and free,
First flower of the earth and first gem of the sea.
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.
Bliss in possession will not last;
Remembered joys are never past;
At once the fountain, stream, and sea,
They were, they are, they yet shall be.
Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.
O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limit to their sway,—
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters.
The rude sea grew civil at her song,
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres
To hear the sea-maid's music.
His deeds inimitable, like the sea
That shuts still as it opes, and leaves no tracts
Nor prints of precedent for poor men's facts.
I am going a long way
With these thou seëst—if indeed I go
(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)—
To the island-valley of Avilion,
Where falls not hail or rain or any snow,
Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns
And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea,
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
A life on the ocean wave!
A home on the rolling deep,
Where the scattered waters rave,
And the winds their revels keep!
3 Fish. Master, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea.
1 Fish. Why, as men do a-land: the great ones eat up the little ones.
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.
In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.
The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day
Is crept into the bosom of the sea.
There is many a rich stone laid up in the bowels of the earth, many a fair pearl laid up in the bosom of the sea, that never was seen, nor never shall be.
Virtue could see to do what virtue would
By her own radiant light, though sun and moon
Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self
Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude,
Where with her best nurse Contemplation
She plumes her feathers and lets grow her wings,
That in the various bustle of resort
Were all-to ruffled, and sometimes impair'd.
He that has light within his own clear breast
May sit i' th' centre and enjoy bright day;
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts
Benighted walks under the midday sun.
Not all the water in the rough rude sea
Can wash the balm off from an anointed king.
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.
I 'll example you with thievery:
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea; the moon's an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun;
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The moon into salt tears; the earth's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen
From general excrement: each thing's a thief.
Any one can hold the helm when the sea is calm.
The sprinkled isles,
Lily on lily, that o'erlace the sea.
Ah, when shall all men's good
Be each man's rule, and universal peace
Lie like a shaft of light across the land,
And like a lane of beams athwart the sea,
Thro' all the circle of the golden year?
The light that never was, on sea or land;
The consecration, and the Poet's dream.
Like to the Pontic sea,
Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
To the Propontic and the Hellespont,
Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,
Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,
Till that a capable and wide revenge
Swallow them up.
I never was on the dull, tame shore,
But I loved the great sea more and more.
The mountains look on Marathon,
And Marathon looks on the sea;
And musing there an hour alone,
I dreamed that Greece might still be free.
After meat comes mustard; or, like money to a starving man at sea, when there are no victuals to be bought with it.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
To a most dangerous sea.
Be that blind bard who on the Chian strand,
By those deep sounds possessed with inward light,
Beheld the Iliad and the Odyssey
Rise to the swelling of the voiceful sea.
My boat is on the shore,
And my bark is on the sea;
But before I go, Tom Moore,
Here's a double health to thee!
The morn was fair, the skies were clear,
No breath came o'er the sea.
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad mortality o'ersways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
They stood aloof, the scars remaining,—
Like cliffs which had been rent asunder:
A dreary sea now flows between.
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory,
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke under me and now has left me,
Weary and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:
I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!
There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have:
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines.
The play's the thing
Wherein I 'll catch the conscience of the king.
Sea of upturned faces.
Sea of upturned faces.
Give me a spirit that on this life's rough sea
Loves t' have his sails fill'd with a lusty wind,
Even till his sail-yards tremble, his masts crack,
And his rapt ship run on her side so low
That she drinks water, and her keel plows air.
Distinct as the billows, yet one as the sea.
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever,—
One foot in sea and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more!
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Two voices are there: one is of the sea,
One of the mountains,—each a mighty voice.
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
The extravagant and erring spirit hies
To his confine.
But who is this, what thing of sea or land,—
Female of sex it seems,—
That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay,
Comes this way sailing
Like a stately ship
Of Tarsus, bound for th' isles
Of Javan or Gadire,
With all her bravery on, and tackle trim,
Sails fill'd, and streamers waving,
Courted by all the winds that hold them play,
An amber scent of odorous perfume
Her harbinger?
Old England is our home, and Englishmen are we;
Our tongue is known in every clime, our flag in every sea.
While the hollow oak our palace is,
Our heritage the sea.
Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daughter!
Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea.
Why does pouring oil on the sea make it clear and calm? Is it for that the winds, slipping the smooth oil, have no force, nor cause any waves?
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,—
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
A power is passing from the earth.
I 'll example you with thievery:
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea; the moon's an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun;
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The moon into salt tears; the earth's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen
From general excrement: each thing's a thief.
And ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant or the sea rolls its waves.
Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears!
What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks,
Ten thousand men that fishes gnawed upon,
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
All scattered in the bottom of the sea:
Some lay in dead men's skulls; and in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 't were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems.
Humility, that low, sweet root
From which all heavenly virtues shoot.
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither.
Cease, rude Boreas, blustering railer!
List, ye landsmen all, to me;
Messmates, hear a brother sailor
Sing the dangers of the sea.
'T is believ'd that this harp which I wake now for thee
Was a siren of old who sung under the sea.
Have hung
My dank and dropping weeds
To the stern god of sea.
Be that blind bard who on the Chian strand,
By those deep sounds possessed with inward light,
Beheld the Iliad and the Odyssey
Rise to the swelling of the voiceful sea.
Ah, County Guy, the hour is nigh,
The sun has left the lea.
The orange flower perfumes the bower,
The breeze is on the sea.
The sea! the sea! the open sea!
The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in,
Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.
They who plough the sea do not carry the winds in their hands.
There is a silence where hath been no sound,
There is a silence where no sound may be,—
In the cold grave, under the deep, deep sea,
Or in the wide desert where no life is found.
I have seen
A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract
Of inland ground, applying to his ear
The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell,
To which, in silence hushed, his very soul
Listened intensely; and his countenance soon
Brightened with joy, for from within were heard
Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed
Mysterious union with his native sea.
When twilight dews are falling soft
Upon the rosy sea, love,
I watch the star whose beam so oft
Has lighted me to thee, love.
If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea.
'T was when the sea was roaring
With hollow blasts of wind,
A damsel lay deploring,
All on a rock reclin'd.
When you do dance, I wish you
A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that.
A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
A wind that follows fast,
And fills the white and rustling sail,
And bends the gallant mast.
And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
While like the eagle free
Away the good ship flies, and leaves
Old England on the lee.
But who is this, what thing of sea or land,—
Female of sex it seems,—
That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay,
Comes this way sailing
Like a stately ship
Of Tarsus, bound for th' isles
Of Javan or Gadire,
With all her bravery on, and tackle trim,
Sails fill'd, and streamers waving,
Courted by all the winds that hold them play,
An amber scent of odorous perfume
Her harbinger?
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
The extravagant and erring spirit hies
To his confine.
I wiped away the weeds and foam,
I fetched my sea-born treasures home;
But the poor, unsightly, noisome things
Had left their beauty on the shore,
With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar.
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday in Wheeson week.
Coop'd in their winged, sea-girt citadel.
The rude sea grew civil at her song,
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres
To hear the sea-maid's music.
And thou art long and lank and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.
I do not know what I may appear to the world; but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.
