Companions are we, enlivened by a mighty gallop quickly sliding a harsh straw basket of sea foam gathered astride the tide.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
There is the churning and the boiling of the sea, and the foam on top of it and that is what man is, churning and foam together.
Choose your companions from the best; Who draws a bucket with the rest soon topples down the hill.
Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore.
There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.
Thus, I steer my bark, and sail On even keel, with gentle gale.
We are imprisoned in the realm of life, like a sailor on his tiny boat, on an infinite ocean.
Slowly, but with no doubt or hesitation whatever, and in something of a solemn expectancy, the two animals passed through the broken tumultuous water and moored their boat at the flowery margin of the island.
And soon, too soon, we part with pain, To sail o'er silent seas again.
The lonely wanderer, who watches by the seashore the waves that roll between him and his home, talks of cruel facts, material barriers that, just because they are material, and not ideal, shall be the irresistible foes of his longing heart.
Hoist up sail while gale doth last, Tide and wind stay no man's pleasure.