ISAW a tract of ocean locked inland, Within a field's embrace -- The very sea! Afar it fled the strand, And gave the seasons chase, And met the night alone, the tempest spanned, Saw sunrise face to face. O Poet, more than ocean, lonelier! In inaccessible rest And storm remote, thou sea of thoughts, dost err Scattered through east to west, -- Now, while thou closest with the kiss of her Who locks thee to her breast. |