我听见或仿佛听见大海在责备:“朝圣者，为什么来得这么晚，这么慢?”我不总是在这里，你的夏天的家吗?我的声音不就是你的音乐吗?我的呼吸是你温暖的气候，我的触摸是你的解药，我的港湾是你的沐浴?有没有像我的梯田一样的建筑?有哪一张沙发像我的那么华丽?躺在温暖的岩壁上，在那里学习一间小茅屋就足够了。我使你的雕刻建筑显得空虚，在我的建筑旁边显得空虚。我把楔子凿回家，把沿海的山凿成洞穴。瞧! here is Rome and Nineveh and Thebes, Karnak and Pyramid and Giant's Stairs Half piled or prostrate; and my newest slab Older than all thy race. Behold the Sea, The opaline, the plentiful and strong, Yet beautiful as is the rose in June, Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July; Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds, Purger of earth, and medicine of men; Creating a sweet climate by my breath, Washing out harms and griefs from memory, And, in my mathematic ebb and flow, Giving a hint of that which changes not. Rich are the sea-gods:--who gives gifts but they? They grope the sea for pearls, but more than pearls: They pluck Force thence, and give it to the wise. For every wave is wealth to Dædalus, Wealth to the cunning artist who can work This matchless strength. Where shall he find, O waves! A load your Atlas shoulders cannot lift? I with my hammer pounding evermore The rocky coast, smite Andes into dust, Strewing my bed, and, in another age, Rebuild a continent of better men. Then I unbar the doors: my paths lead out The exodus of nations: I dispersed Men to all shores that front the hoary main. I too have arts and sorceries; Illusion dwells forever with the wave. I know what spells are laid. Leave me to deal With credulous and imaginative man; For, though he scoop my water in his palm, A few rods off he deems it gems and clouds. Planting strange fruits and sunshine on the shore, I make some coast alluring, some lone isle, To distant men, who must go there, or die.