If I must die,
The earth is inarticulate to sing
The dirge I crave:
The sorrow of the murmur-laden wave,
The sea-born wind complaining ’neath the sky,
And round my head the waters’ silver ring.
If I must live,
And feel the ashes of...
This is the song of the wave! The mighty one!
Child of the soul of silence, beating the air to sound.
White as a live terror, as a drawn sword,
This is the wave!
This is the song of the wave, the white-maned steed of the Tempest,
Whose veins...
