Break, Break, Break by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

When my dear friend saw Day 27 Ocean, the first words that leapt into her mind were those of Alfred, Lord Tennyson:

Break, break, break,

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!

And I would that my tongue could utter

The thoughts that arise in me.

O well for the fisherman's boy,

That he shouts for his sister at play!

O well for the sailor lad,

that he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on

To their haven under the hill;

But O for the touch of a vanished hand,

And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!

But the tender grace of a day that is dead

Will never come back to me.