Whether there dropped by some too careless hand,
Or whether there cast when Ocean swept the Land,
Ere the Eternal had ordained the day?
Strange, was it not? Far from its native deep,
One song it sang,
Sang of the awful mysteries of the tide,
Sang of the misty sea, profound and wide,
Ever with echoes of the ocean rang.
And as the shell upon the mountain height
Sings of the sea,