Poema ao Mar

                                                                     Dias após dias,
                                                                     Marés bravias
                                                                     Agitam o mar.
                                                                     De fortes ventos
                                                                     Soam lamentos
                                                                     Ao ressoar.


                                                                     Dias após dias,
                                                                     Quais sinfonias
                                                                     Em alto mar:
                                                                     Ondas que valsam,
                                                                     Águas que passam
                                                                     Pra não voltar.


                                                                     Passaram os ventos,
                                                                     Os seus lamentos...
                                                                     Tudo passou.
                                                                     O mar, sereno,
                                                                     O som ameno
                                                                     Tranquilizou.


                                                                     Passaram os ventos,
                                                                     Ventos sedentos...
                                                                     A paz voltou.
                                                                     A suave brisa
                                                                     Nas águas desliza
                                                                     O seu frescor.


                                                                     Plácidos mares,
                                                                     Valsar dos ares,
                                                                     Melodioso.
                                                                     Ondas sonoras,
                                                                     Cantar d’auroras,
                                                                     Véu precioso.


                                                                     Plácidos mares,
                                                                     Mãos modelares
                                                                     Da CRIAÇÃO.
                                                                     O Belo que infunde
                                                                     E até se confunde
                                                                     Com a imensidão.


                                                                                                                     Paulo Holanda