Buried beauties, rise and woo
Youths whose blood they suck like dew,—
And a wind was groaning.
Then the west one said to me:
"Thou hast slept thus holily
While seven sands ran secretly."—
And the sea was moaning, moaning;—
"Earth hath served thee like a slave,
Serving us who found thee brave,
Fearless of or life or grave."—