I long to hear the thundering crash Of their terrific fall, And the echoes from a thousand cliffs Like lonely voices call.
There shall we see the fierce white bear, The sleepy seals aground, And the spouting whales that to and fro Sail with a dreary sound.
There may we tread on depths of ice, That the hairy mammoth hide; Perfect as when, in times of old, The mighty creature died.
And while the unsetting sun shines on Through the still heaven's deep blue, We'll traverse the azure waves, the herds Of the dread sea horse to view.
We'll pass the shores of solemn pine, Where wolves and black bears prowl; And away to the rocky isles of mist, To rouse the northern fowl.
Up there shall start ten thousand wings With a rustling, whistling din; Up shall the auk and fulmar start, All but the fat penguin.
And there in the wastes of the silent sky, With the silent earth below, We shall see far off to his lonely rock The lonely eagle go.
Then softly, softly will we tread By inland streams, to see Where the pelican of the silent North Sits there all silently.
Deep in the wave is a coral grove, Where the purple mullet and goldfish rove; Where the sea flower spreads its leaves of blue, That never are wet with the falling dew; But in bright and changeful beauty shine, Far down in the green and glassy brine. The floor is of sand, like the mountain's drift, And the pearl shells spangle the flinty snow; From coral rocks the sea plants lift Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow. The water is calm and still below, For the winds and waves are absent there, And the sands are bright as the stars that glow In the motionless fields of upper air. There, with its waving blade of green, The sea flag streams through the silent water, And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter; There, with a light and easy motion, The fan coral sweeps through the clear, deep sea; And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean Are bending like corn on the upland lea: And life in rare and beautiful forms Is sporting amid those bowers of stone, And is safe, when the wrathful spirit of storms Has made the top of the waves his own: And when the ship from his fury flies, When the myriad voices of ocean roar, When the wind god frowns in the murky skies, And demons are waiting the wreck on shore, Then, far below, in the peaceful sea, The purple mullet and goldfish rove, Where the waters murmur tranquilly Through the bending twigs of the coral grove.