My childhood chanced and chose to be:
’Twas here I played, and musing made
My friend the melancholy sea.
He from his dim enchanted caves
With shuddering roar and onrush wild
Fell down in sacrificial waves
At feet of his exulting child.
Unto a spirit too light for fear
His wrath was mirth, his wail was glee:—
My heart is now too fixed to bow