Whose changeful waves forever chant their grand triumphal hymn.
Now tempest-lashed and raging, with deep and hungry roar,
The foam-capped billows dash themselves in anger on the shore,
Now wavelets ripple gently along the quiet strand,
While summer's sunshine broodeth soft o'er all the sea and land.
O mighty waves! as chainless, as free, as birds that skim!
There's One who rules the stormy sea—thy song is all of him.
And so in the shadowy forest the birds sing loud and sweet
From swaying boughs where breezes rock their little broods to sleep.
The golden cups of the cowslip spring from the mossy sod,