Swimming

OWmany atime have I Cloven with arm still lustier, breast more daring, The wave all roughen'd; with a swimmer's stroke Flinging the billows back from my drench'd hair, And laughing from my lip the audacious brine, Which kiss'd it like a wine-cup, rising o'er The waves as they arose, and prouder still The loftier they uplifted me; and oft, In wantonness of spirit, plunging down Into the green and glossy gulfs, and making My way to shells and sea-weed, all unseen By those above, till they wax'd fearful; then Returning with my grasp full of such tokens As show'd that I had search'd the deep: exulting, With a far dashing stroke, and drawing deep The long-suspended breath, again I spurn'd The foam which broke around me, and pursued My track like a sea-bird-I was aboy then.