The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep, And round the pebbly beaches far and wide I heard the first wave of the rising tide Rush onward with uninterrupted sweep;
A voice out of the silence of the deep, A sound mysteriously multiplied As of a cataract from the mountain's side, Or roar of winds upon a wooded steep.
So comes to us at times, from the unknown And inaccessible solitudes of being, The rushing of the sea-tides of the soul;
And inspirations, that we deem our own, Are some divine foreshadowing and foreseeing Of things beyond our reason or control.
