These froward waves, we feign they try
To utter to us some mystery:
Such is the euphuistic game
We baffled poets follow.
Pantheistic? All the same,
Like the sounding cymbal hollow:—
We it is and not the sea
Long to speak out God's mystery:
Immense and world-old salt ocean,
With thy moon-adoring motion,
Thou hast nought to us to say,
We must speak and thou obey.