Have swarmed in the upper blue
And the glow and shine of the drenching brine
Like white fire burns me through.
I haunt as a ghost the rock-girt coast
Where the bell-buoy loudly rings
And the breakers leap to the mighty sweep
Of the night-wind’s sable wings.
I shake and moan, I creak and groan,
In the wrathful tempest when
The old sea raves and digs deep graves