Verse

John Keats:

On the Sea

It keeps eternal whisperings around
  Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell
  Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell
Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.
Often ‘tis in such gentle temper found,
  That scarcely will the very smallest shell
  Be moved for days from where it sometime fell,
When last the winds of heaven were unbound.
Oh ye! who have your eyeballs vexed and tired,
  Feast them upon the wilderness of the sea;
     Oh ye! whose ears are dinned with uproar rude,
  Or fed to much with cloying melody-
      Sit ye near some old cavern’s mouth, and brood
Until ye start, as if the sea nymphs quired!