Sometimes I stand upon the shore

Where ocean vaults their effluence pour,

And troubled waters sigh and shriek

Of secrets that they dare not speak.

From nameless valleys far below,

And hills and plains no man may know,

The mystic swells and sullen surges

Hint like accursed thaumaturges

A thousand horrors, big with awe,

That long-forgotten ages saw.

O salt, salt winds, that bleakly sweep

Across the barren heaving deep:

O wild, wan waves, that call to mind

The chaos Earth hath left behind:

Of you I ask one thing alone —

Leave, leave your ancient lore unknown!