O'er the starlit sea with Matthew Arnold

 

Self-Dependence by Matthew Arnold

Weary of myself, and sick of asking
What I am, and what I ought to be,
At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me
Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea.

And a look of passionate desire
O'er the sea and to the stars I send:
'Ye who from my childhood up have calm'd me,
Calm me, ah, compose me to the end!

'Ah, once more,' I cried, 'ye stars, ye waters,
On my heart your mighty charm renew;
Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you,
Feel my soul becoming vast like you!'

From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven,
Over the lit sea's unquiet way,
In the rustling night-air came the answer:
'Wouldst thou be as these are? Live as they.

'Unaffrighted by the silence round them,
Undistracted by the sights they see,
These demand not that the things without them
Yield them love, amusement, sympathy.

'And with joy the stars perform their shining,
And the sea its long moon-silver'd roll;
For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting
All the fever of some differing soul.

'Bounded by themselves, and unregardful
In what state God's other works may be,
In their own tasks all their powers pouring,
These attain the mighty life you see.'

O air-born voice! long since, severely clear,
A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear:
'Resolve to be thyself; and know that he,
Who finds himself, loses his misery!'

I’m not going to delve into the deeper meanings of this poem, for two reasons:

1) I think any “moral” I might impose upon you would not be nearly as effective as the meaning you interpret for yourself, and
2) I don’t want to.
Instead, I want to talk about a pattern I’ve found while going through my favorite poems. As I think I mentioned when I began this series on poetry, I’ve kept a “copy-book” of my favorite poetry selections throughout my school years, so as I found a passage that resonated with me I would simply copy it out “for safe-keeping.”

Now, as I review them, I see how many poems I saved that have a nautical theme. I’m not surprised about this, since I have long been interested in seafaring stories, collected paintings of sailing ships, and have held a general fascination with oceans and such. But I hadn’t realized this interest had bled into my taste of poetry. 

What does it mean? I’m no psychologist, so I don’t really know what this love of the sea means about me. Seafaring to me signifies a journey: the journey of life, but also as a reader the journey through a story. In both life and reading, the present is uncertain and the destination unknown.