II.
The sea is never quiet: east and west
The nations hear it, like the voice of fate;
Within vast shores its strife makes desolate,
Still murmuring mid storms that to its breast
Return, as eagles screaming to their nest.
Is it the voice of worlds and isles that wait
While old earth crumbles to eternal rest,
Or some hoar monster calling to his mate?
O ye, that hear it moan about the shore,
Be still and listen! that loud voice hath sung
Where mountains rise, where desert sands are blown;
And when man's voice is dumb, forevermore
'Twill murmur on its craggy shores among,
Singing of gods and nations overthrown.
W.P. Foster.