Shape from the steadfast shore that rules it round,
And only from the storms a casual sound:
The sea, that harbours in her heart sublime
The supreme heart of music deep as time,
And in her spirit strong
The spirit of all imaginable song.

Not a whisper or lisp from the waters: the skies were
⁠not silenter. Peace
Was between them; a passionless rapture of respite as
⁠soft as release.
Not a sound, but a sense that possessed and pervaded
⁠with patient delight
The soul and the body, clothed round with the comfort
⁠of limitless night.
Night infinite, living, adorable, loved of the land and
⁠the sea:
Night, mother of mercies, who saith to the spirits in
⁠prison, Be free.