IT keeps eternal whisperings around Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell Gluts twice ten thousand Caverns, till the spell Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound. Often 'tis in such gentle temper found, That scarcely will the very smallest shell Be mov'd for days from where it sometime fell, When last the winds of Heaven were unbound. Oh ye! who have your eye-balls vex'd and tir'd, Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea; Oh ye! whose ears are dinn'd with uproar rude, Or fed too much with cloying melody-- Sit ye near some old Cavern's Mouth, and brood Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs quir'd! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MINOR POET by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CONTRA MORTEM: THE WATER by HAYDEN CARRUTH PARAGRAPHS: 16 by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE WRECK OF THE CIRCUS TRAIN by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE BUTCHER SHOP by DAVID IGNATOW DOMESDAY BOOK: BARRETT BAYS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |