The great hill-breakers curve and comb
In crumbling lines of falling foam
Before they settle and drop.
Down and down, with the shuddering sweep
Of the sea-wave’s glassy wall,
You sink with a plunge that takes your breath,
A thrill that stirreth and quickeneth,
Like the great line steamer’s fall.
We have laid our streets by the square and line,
We have built by the line and square;