O Sea, that to these grey and solemn shores
Dost pour thy plaint through all the circling years;
I would that to my ever-listening ears
Some spirit might translate thy language! Roars
The wave that spends its force against the rocks
That its assaults deride; a giant's pain
It voices! Soft dost thou complain
By pebbly beach to Summer's fields and flocks.
Tell'st thou of cities hid beneath thy breast?
Of famed Atlantis, known in story only?
Of sepulchres innumerable, where rest
The wrecks of ages, peacefully and lonely?
Tell why thou plaintest, melancholy sea!
And the sea answers, Hush, it may not be.
Hiram Ladd Spencer
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sea-77/
