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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 Hecate1 leaves them their old shadowy sound.
Often 'tis in such gentle temper found,
	That scarcely will the very smallest shell
	Be mov'd for days from where it sometime fell,
When the last winds of Heaven were unbound. 
Oh ye! who have your eyeballs vex'd and tir'd,
	Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea;
		Oh ye! whose ears are dinn'd with uproar rude,
	Or fed too much with cloying melody—
		Sit ye near some old Cavern's Mouth and brood
Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs quir'd!

John Keats (1795-1821)	P. 1820

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