Mighty and cruel and strong is my first,
Beautiful too to behold;
But oh! it is false. Of traitors the worst,
Luring the hardy and bold.
Tranquil and lovely it smiles in your face,
Then drags you to death in its wild embrace.
Feeble and weak is my second—a cry
Uttered by young, tender things;
Lovely to look at, they too may prove sly,
Darting with sudden, fierce springs;
Though never a smile plays over their face,
They too drag to death in a wild embrace.
Found is my whole where the wild waters roar—
Old Ocean nurtures its race—
Where beat the waves on the rocky shore,
Looking the wind in the face.
Happy, contented, my whole will play
In the gale and the storm the live-long day.