A SAILOR AMID THE HILLS

What does he hear in dreams? The surging wind,

Its long-drawn cadence, its wild harmony,

A mighty harp of infinite strings designed,

Whose sound to him seems sweet immeasurably?

Nay, nay, but through the spaces of his mind,

Plangent or pleading, loud or low-defined,

The ever-haunting murmur of the sea!