He only shrugged his Atlan shoulders bare,
And answered me a mournful sigh.
I plied it to the deep and surging sea
Where myriads slept in her watery grave;
She roared and spumed, and splashed her surges higher,
And answer none to me she gave.
Then to the heavens with upturned face I gazed,
And reverent asked my God in prayer;
A still, small voice breathed back to me in love,
“Wait, child; thou shalt know better there.”