Along the serried coast the South-wind raves,
Grey birds scream landward through the distance hoar,
And, swinging from the dim confounded shore,
The everlasting boom of broken waves
Like muffled thunder rolls about the graves
Of all the wonder-lands and lives of yore,
Whose bones asunder bleach for evermore
In sobbing chasms and under choking caves.
O breaking heart—whose only rest is rage,
White tossing arms, and lips that kiss and part
In lonely dreams of Love’s wild liberty—
Not the mean earth thy suffering can assuage,
Nor highest heaven fulfil that hungry heart,
O fair, full-bosomed, passionate, weeping Sea!