XI.

The eye was shut in men; the hearing ear

Dull unto deafness; nought but earthly things

Had credence; and no highest art that flings

A spirit radiance from it, like the spear

Of the ice-pointed mountain, lifted clear

In the nigh sunrise, had made skyey springs

Of light in the clouds of dull imaginings:

Vain were the painter or the sculptor here.

Give man the listening heart, the seeing eye;

Give life; let sea-derived fountain well,

Within his spirit, infant waves, to tell

Of the far ocean-mysteries that lie

Silent upon the horizon,— evermore

Falling in voices on the human shore.