Emblem of mortal mind and evil power, Of seething sorrow and of man's deceit, Though passing fair in thine unangered hour, When the pale moon has paced with wanderings sweet Her pathway o'er thee: or when thy soft beat, Sifting the sand beneath thy lisping wave, Whispers of innocence—ah, wanton cheat! The morn will hear thee sing a different stave, When the wild north wind blows from Norway's blustering cave. Unsated tomb of earth's unhallowed hope And uncontrolled desire! thy plumbless deeps In their untried recesses give good scope To dreams of th' infinite: the plummet creeps To meads all marvel stored, where darkness keeps Thy hoarded lumber house, and leads us then To grottos where the treasure-galleon sleeps In ooze and slime, afar from earthly ken, And stored with gold and guns, and memories stark of men.
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