The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep,
 And round the pebbly beaches far and wide
 I heard the first wave of the rising tide
 Rush onward with uninterrupted sweep;
A voice out of the silence of the deep,
 A sound mysteriously multiplied
 As of a cataract from the mountain's side,
 Or roar of winds upon a wooded steep.
So comes to us at times, from the unknown
 And inaccessible solitudes of being,
 The rushing of the sea-tides of the soul;
And inspirations, that we deem our own,
 Are some divine foreshadowing and foreseeing
 Of things beyond our reason or control.