“Oh, where is the sea?” the fishes cried,
As they swam the crystal clearness through;
“We’ve heard from of old of the ocean’s tide,
And we long to look on the water’s blue.
The wise ones speak of the infinite sea.
Oh, who can tell us if such there be?”
The lark flew up in the morning bright,
And sang and balanced on sunny wings;
And this was its song: “I see the light,
I look o’er a world of beautiful things;
But, flying and singing everywhere,
In vain I have searched to find the air.”