Are not those wild steeds champing on the beach,
Rearing and splashing on the lonesome shore,
The main land seeking frantic’ly to reach,
Their white manes gleaming like the frost wreaths hoar?
Steeds of the sea are they that tireless ever
Beat with their sounding hoofs the hard sea sand,
Lashed onward by the blast, with fierce endeavor
They vainly seek the quiet of the land.
Type of that wild unrest that fills the soul: