I can feel the vasty mountains
Heave and settle under me,
And the Doomkeel veer and tremor,
Crumbling on the hollow sea.
There’s a call, as when a white gull
Cries and beats across the blue;
That must be the Shadow Boatswain
Piping to his shadow crew.
There’s a boding sound, like winter,
When the pines begin to quail;