Fathoms from sight and hearing,
Where seas are blind and deaf.
My soul like a fish goes steering
Her fabulous gargoyle nef:
Her nef of silver and mouldering
Mother-of-pearl with eyes
Of bulging coral smouldering
Down dim green galleries.
To climb the brightening ladder
Of layer on layer of the sea
She dare not; her swimming-bladder
Would burst in the ecstasy
Of sunlight and windy motion,
White moons and the sky’s red gates.
Still in the depth of ocean
She sits and contemplates.