Strange Sea！ why is it that you never rest？ And tell me why you never go to sleep？ Thou art like one so sad and sin-oppressed —— （And the waves are the tears you weep） —— And thou didst never sin —— what ails¹ the sinless deep？

    To-night I hear you crying on the beach, Like a weary child on its mother's breast —— A cry with an infinite and lonesome reach Of unutterably deep unrest； And thou didst never sin —— why art thou so distressed³？

    But, ah, sad Sea！ the mother's breast is warm, Where crieth the lone² and the wearied child； And soft the arms that shield her own from harm； And her look is unutterably mild —— But to-night, O Sea！ thy cry is wild, so wild！

    What ails thee, Sea？ The midnight stars are bright —— How safe they lean on heaven's sinless breast！ O Sea！ is the beach too hard, tho' e'er so white, To give thy utter weariness a rest？ （And to-night the winds are a-coming from the West）。