We know that thou hast heard the fearful moan
Rise upward with the drowning sea-boy's cry;
And e'en while dreaming of his cottage home,
Far, far away beneath a golden sky,
Thy careless voice hath roused him up to die.

We know, too, thou hast dashed, in fearful glee,
O'er the proud argosies that crossed thy way;
Hast felt the winds, in revel wild and free,
Sweep round thy form, and curl thee into spray –
And yet thou wanderest here, child of the sea.

But tell us of the ocean dead, thou wave –
Say, do they sleep in calm and quiet now?
Do thy wild brothers hold their restless rave
Around each form, and o'er each marble brow?
Or du they sleep the slumber of the grave?

In the dim palaces of ocean's caves,
Where the sea-maiden weaves her coral wreath,
Are there no sighing winds and moonlit waves ?
No flashing stars that tremble far beneath,
Lighting the sea-tomb with a quenchless ray?

Methinks thou'rt murmuring now,– beneath the seas
There is a scene more beautiful than ours;
Whose gorgeous palaces and coral trees,
Imbedded mid rich gems and pearly flowers,
Smile like the visioned Paradise of God.

And there, amid that strange and gorgeous home,
Roam the freed spirits of the ocean dead;
Far from the strife of earth, alone, alone;
With a green canopy around, o'erhead,
Mid the wild music of the sea they dwell.

Stray child of ocean, art thou weary now?
Cense thy wild moan, thy life will soon be o'er,
A shroud of foam has gathered on thy brow –
There; thou art breaking on the silent shore–
Wave of the deep blue sea, thou art no snore!