What secret strive ye thus to hide,
A thousand fathoms deep,
Which the sea will not keep,
And pours, and babbles forth upon her refluent tide?--

I see your torn and wind-blown hair,
Shewn far along the shore,--
And lifted evermore
You white hands tossing in a fierce despair;

And half I deem ye hold below,
In vast and wandering cell,
The primal spirits who fell,
Reserved in chains and immemorial woe.

Keep ye, oh waves!--your mystery:--
The time draws on apace,
When from before His face,
The heavens and the earth shall flee,
And evermore there shall be no more sea!




RESURGAM


Into the darkness and the deeps
My thoughts have strayed, where silence dwells,