———
I heard a maiden by the tumid ocean—
The day had gone and night came on apace—
Chanting a hymn to the spray’s chiming motion,
Starlight and moonlight, and the sea’s dim face.
And, as the moon looked down, her song up-stealing
Fell thus upon my ear: “Hope of my hope,
Gone o’er the swelling waters, whence this feeling
That thou art dead? I give my fancy scope,
And see thee hideous, with Death’s image o’er