In the tide of the years;
Awhile they may triumph, as lords of the earth,
With feasting and mirth,
Yet the winds and the waters shall sweep over all.
VOICE OF THE WEST WIND: O wide-shifting wonder of sapphire and gold,
O wandering glory of emerald and white,
From the purple and green of the moorlands I come,
To sweep o'er thy waters with turbulent flight,
To sway thee, and swing thee abroad in my might;
I lean to thy lips, to their white, curling foam,