I know it not, nor seek to know:
I only see it swell and grow,
And more than this would not presume.
Meseems, a circling void I fill,
And I, unchanged where all is change;
It seems unreal; I own it strange,
Yet nurse the thoughts I cannot kill.
I hear the oceans surging tide
Raise quiring on its carol-tune;
I watch the golden-sickled-moon,