And the yellow fan—and the dulse’s glow,
That bloom in the sunless deep?
And the purple rocks—and the coral grove—
All dear to memory and to love.
They may talk of their heaven of azure light,
And their sphere-wrought harmony—
And the glittering gems of their burning night—
Yet what are these to me?
I hear the deep wild strains that swell
From the sea green depths of my ocean cell.